Somehow Sundown
by Glory Alchemist
Summary: Order 66. Operation: Knightfall. The birth of an Empire. Darth Sidious is in charge now, and his word is law. All Force-users are fair game, be they Jedi, civillian ... or clone. Sequal to "The New Guy". Renamed.
1. Chapter 1

**If you haven't read my story "The New Guy", I suggest you read that first. **

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p><em>He was walking through a field. Green grass and stalks of wheat waved around his knees, prickled under his bare feet. The air pressed down on him like a tangible force, trying to push him to his knees. He squinted at the horizon, the field stretched on for an eternity in each direction to distant rising hills that vanished into the sky. The moon loomed above,green through a thick haze of clouds. From the sky it rained little flames, golden stars crashing down. They hit the grass and smoldered like coals, making small werelights that flickered and sparked in the green twilight. He felt the fire rain scorch the skin of his back, eating away at him like he was paper. The heat evaporated his sweat and cracked his flesh. He blistered and bled, over and again and was made into a wasteland. He walked on for days, years, centuries and did not find an end.<em>

An elbow jammed between his shoulder blades woke Shades from his dream and drove the air from his lungs. Gasping and choking on curses, he rolled away and turned to face his attacker.

Little could be seen in the makeshift shelter, the only light soarce being the moon peeking through holes in the tarp. Shades could make out three other forms in the darkness, all hudled deep within their sleeping rolls to ward off the night chill. He didn't see anyone else, only his sleeping brothers. He relaxed minutely and listened to the nighttime noises. Inside the tent, Onyx snored in a steady, unbroken rythem. Carp mumbled something, shivered, and tucked his head inside his sleeping roll. From outside came the occational cry of an avian and the rustle of branches overhead as the wind stired them. No alarms, nothing to be afraid of. Shades allowed himself to relax completely.

There was a sudden blur of movement as the third man in the tent flayled in his sleeping roll. He trashed from side to side and moaned, maybe a word, maybe nothing.

Shades quickly slid over and grabbed the other guy's shoulder, shaking him awake. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from shouting and waking the rest of the tent.

"Hey, Fib. Fib! Wake up."

Brown eyes opened and stared up at him in the dark, wide and frightened. Shades let out a quiet breath and eased his hand back just as Fib went to shove it off. The medic sat up, panting, and pushed sweat soaked red hair out of his eyes. Shades regarded his brother for a long moment before breaking the silence.

"Well?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

"Well what?"

Shades grunted in irritation and shook his head at the other's terrible attempt at evasion. "You know _shabla_ well what. The dream, moron. What was it about?"

"Nothing," Fib muttered. His voice sounded raspy, like he'd been screaming. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth and inhaled sharply, then let out a trembling sigh. "It was nothing."

Shades didn't buy it for an instant. He had a lot of experience reading the meaning behind Fib's words, and right now the guy was doing a terrible job of hiding how shaken up he was. What puzzeled the sergeant was the reason for it. Everyone had nightmares. The days of naïve innocence, when the clones had believed that serving the Republic was the greatest gift they could ask for, had long since faded with the ugliness of the war. Now there was only fear, the brewing storm of anger, and the slow rot of madness. Shades knew they all suffered from the slow death in one form or another. Some were worse than others, but all who fought on the front were familiar with its stench.

But when Fib had nightmares, he always woke up calm. It was as though the twilight world of dreams had no hold over him when his eyes were open. Privately, Shades thought it was because the man could be so unlikeable that even nightmares didn't want to hang around longer than absolutely nessesary. Whatever the reason, Fib was obviously feeling the effects of this one.

Concerned, Shades reached out and pressed his palm to his friend's sweaty forehead. Fib blinked in surprise. The skin under Shades's hand was warm and damp, but not feverish.

"Well," he said sagely, "you don't appear to have a fever."

At that, Fib scowled and shoved the other clone's hand away. "Of course I don't. I'd know if I was sick, you _dikut_. I'm a medic."

_And a healer._

The words hung in the air between them, unsaid, but understood all the same.

An idea occurred to Shades, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck and along his arms under the black bodysuit he wore.

_Maybe he had a vision._

Really, everything had been much simpiler back when Fib had been nothing but an irreverent, brilliant medic who didn't think he was worth anything because he'd let his closest brother die. Yeah, there'd been issues, but nothing of the supernatural sort. Now that Force-sensitivity had been added to the equation, _normal_ had taken a turn for the weird.

Shades had mostly come to terms with his brother's abilities. He could handle the healing; most of that happened beneath the surface, out of sight, and it was really useful to have a Force healer around in a combat situation. He was all right with the quick reflexes and the talking to him without seeing him enter a room; annoying, but manigable. What really got to him was when Fib moved things without touching them. He didn't do it often and it was never something larger than a helmet, but it was downright unnerving to see a datapad lift itself off a table and float into Fib's hand. If Force visions were about to become a regular occurance, Shades didn't know how much longer his sanity would hold.

He cleared his throat quietly and finally asked, "Was it a vision?"

He waited, apprehention building, as Fib stared off vacantly at the corner of the tent for a few minutes.

"No," he answer finally, voice subdued. He slid into his sleeping roll and turned onto his side, back to Shades. "It was just a bad dream."

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><p><strong>I know I said not to expect anything for a while, but I had some ideas and there are still two weeks before school starts. Might as well take advantage of them. The title comes from the song "Dha Werda Verda", or "Wrath of the Shadow Warrior." I hope you enjoy. Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>The sun rose slowly over the W'brasi Mountains on the planet Beta Gabriel. Down in the valleys, where the morning light had yet to reach, thick fog from the night before still hovered, winding its way between the trees and over rocky outcrops still in shadow. There were no settlements in the mountains, but in one valley, hidden from sight by low hanging branches, stood three blaster cannons ringing a rock formation that provided natural cover from the north, west, and east. It someone looked closely, they would just be able to make out about forty-two tarps hidden under grass and foliage. This was Renegade Company's camp.<p>

Muffled cursing broke the morning silence, and a man wearing a black bodysuit and clutching an armful of white armor tumbled out of one of the camouflaged tents.

Shades sat up and shook leaves from his hair. As he began strapping on his armor, the rest of the camp came to life. Clones began emerging from other tents in various states of dress. Excited, hushed chatter filled the air. Word had been sent by Suugun Company that the Separatist convoy they had been waiting for had been spotted and was heading in their direction. Finally, after two weeks of waiting and scouting the surrounding valleys, something was going to happen. Shades scarfed down some ration bars along with a gulp of water and moved to join Fib under the shade of a tree in checking the charge of his DC-15.

"Looks like those lazy Seps finally decided to show themselves," Shades grunted as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn burn mark on his DC's handle. "It's about time, too. I was starting to wonder if they were planning to show up before this kriffing war was over."

"Yeah…"

Shades glanced up. Fib was obviously distracted, his dark brows pulled together in a frown as he stared at the rifle and cleaning rag in his lap, not really seeing them. A half-eaten ration bar lay in the grass next to him.

"You gonna eat that?"

"No."

Now Shades frowned. "Come on, you need to eat something. I'm not going to carry you if you faint from hunger."

"I'm not hungry."

"Seriously, Fib, you should—"

"I said I'm not hungry!"

Shades raised his hands in surrender, scowling at the medic. "Fine, whatever. I hope you pass out and a Sep tank runs over you."

With that, the sergeant stood up and moved away in the direction of General Edrasi Nyine and captain Thorn, who stood before a projected holomap of the surrounding terrain. Edi raised a hand and beckoned him over without lifting her head. Shades sighed. He just didn't seem to be able to escape Force-users and their strange habits today.

As he joined his Cos, they moved aside so he had a clearer view of the projection. The Separatist forces were marked in red, the Republic's in blue. Shades could see the Sep convoy making its way painstakingly around a steep sided mountain.

"We're engaging the enemy here," said Edi, indicating a spot in the projection. "Good natural cover and the convoy will be strung out, forced to go single file, so it will be hard for them to run. The perfect sight for an ambush." She flashed Shades a wry smile, which he returned.

Thorn took up the narrative. "Sergeant, we want you and three other men to serve as lookouts from this ridge. We'll need real time holofootage so we can time this just right."

Shades nodded in understanding. "Do you have any men in mind, sir, or may I choose?"

"We'll trust your judgment." With a brisk clap on the back, the captain turned back to studying the projection. Edi caught Shades's eye and tilted her head slightly, indicating that she wanted a word in private. Curious, he followed her over to a stand of trees, out of earshot of any of the men. Shades noticed Thorn glance in their direction before returning his attention to the map.

"Something's bothering Fib," said Edi as soon as they were alone.

Shades nodded slowly, suddenly reluctant. There was no point in lying to Edi, and he didn't want to, but it felt wrong to betray his brother's confidence, even to such a close friend. He glanced over to where he'd left the medic. Fib was still under the tree. He had the contents of his medical bag spread out in front of him and was carefully studying each item before stowing it away.

_Maybe Edi would know what to make of last night. I'm out of my depth._

Of all the people in Renegade Company, Edi and Shades were the only ones that knew that Fib was a Force-sensitive. They'd made sure to keep it quiet. Edi had explained to him the dangers if someone were to find out. He shuddered at the idea of what the Kaminoans would do if they got their hands on Fib. And remembering his own initial reaction to the news, Shades agreed that it was best that the other clones didn't know. He thanked the Force every day that he and his brothers had been lucky enough to get Edi as their general. He hated to think what would have happened to Fib if a less understanding or compassionate Jedi had discovered what he was and what he could do. So they kept it a secret, known only to the three of them.

Shades suspected that Captain Thorn might have guessed something, but if he did, he never mentioned it. He was a solid captain and a good man.

In the end though, he decided not to tell Edi what had happened last night. It wasn't his call to make; it was Fib's. He wasn't going to betray his brother's trust. It meant too much to him.

"He didn't sleep very well." Not a lie, but not the whole truth.

Edi stared at him for a long moment. Shades kept his face carefully blank and wished he had put his helmet on. She knew he was holding something back, but she didn't force it. Yet another reason why he loved her. Finally she sighed and gave him a little smile.

"You'd better get your men ready, Sergeant. Wouldn't want to miss your date with the convoy."

He grinned and gave a smart salute. "No, sir, that would be a tragedy."

As Shades jogged back to retrieve the rest of his gear, he tagged Onyx and Lynch and relayed their orders. Then once he had his kit, he wandered back over to where Fib had just finished packing his medical bag.

"You in the mood for some sightseeing?"

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><p>Thorn surveyed their new position with a deep sense of satisfaction. The old camp had been packed up quickly, with very little left behind to indicate that one had ever been there. It had been a difficult trek to the ambush sight, but they'd made good time. Now the blaster cannons had been reassembled, two on this side of the pass and one on the other, the men were in position, and they'd soon be in contact with Sergeant Shades's recon party.<p>

Sergeant Shades.

Thorn remembered when the boy had first been transferred to Renegade. He'd been sent from the 26th Fast Infantry Division, under the command of General Tai Bogard and Commander Marc. He'd been a mess, angry and resentful, snapping at the least provocation. Thorn had lost count of the times Shades had gotten into fights with his fellow clones.

Edi's presence had had some calming effect, but the boy had remained distant, and he'd been downright wary of Thorn, never allowing himself to be in a room alone with the captain.

Thorn had done some digging, and it hadn't been long before he'd found out that Shades had experienced repeated instances of physical abuse from Commander Marc. Thorn remembered the man from training. He had a terrible temper, and when aroused, lashed out at the nearest person. Shades had been an easy target, a rookie who didn't have many friends and wasn't particularly liked by the other officers. Thorn had never found out if General Bogard had known about the abuse, but if he had, he'd never done anything to stop it.

Thorn was sickened by the idea of one brother laying his hands on another in violence. And the idea of a Jedi turning a blind eye and letting it happen was enough to reduce him to dry heaves. Weren't Jedi supposed to be the defenders of the weak and oppressed?

He'd done his best to help the boy, and so had Edi. Thorn had never told her what he'd found out, but she seemed to have guessed all the same. It had been gratifying beyond belief to watch Shades make real friends. He was a good kid, fiercely loyal and with a drive to succeed, no matter the odds. Thorn had never been prouder than the day he made the boy a sergeant.

But there had still been problems. Shades lost his temper easily, and even when he controlled himself, Thorn could see the resentment and pain roiling beneath the surface. Then Fib came along and things got worse. Something about the medic seemed to rub Shades's raw nerves and got him fighting mad in next to no time. Things came to a head with the fight in medbay, and Thorn was at the point of desperation. The captain had come to the end of his rope, literally. It had come to the point where he couldn't afford to cut the young sergeant any more slack.

So he'd been beyond shocked when things hadn't gotten worse. In fact, he could exactly pinpoint the fight in medbay as some kind of turning point for Shades. Thorn didn't know why or how, but the boy had become less angry. The man that had once driven him crazy had become some sort of positive force for him. In fact, the more time he spent with Fib, the more pronounced the change became. It was as though by his very presence, the medic was healing Shades, reaching into him and soothing away all the dark emotions that had clogged his mind and heart for so long.

It reminded him of something that Edi had once mentioned, something called soul healing, where a Jedi healer could use the Force to ease and erase a being's negative emotions. He'd told her that it sounded an awful lot like mind influence, and she'd smiled at him. "In a way it is," she'd responded. "But it's much deeper. Mind influence is only a temporary thing, affecting only the surface. Soul healing takes time, dedication, and sacrifice of oneself for the needs of another. It's infinitely harder and unimaginably more rewarding. And it lasts. Only the greatest healers are capable of it."

Of course, it wasn't like Fib could ever do something like that, but he seemed to do Shades a world of good. And for that, Thorn was thankful. He only hoped that the young medic could find someone that would do the same for him one day.

Thorn came back to himself when his helmet comm beeped, indicating that there was an incoming call. He blinked twice rapidly to open the link. "Thorn here."

"Shades here, sir. We're in position. Stand by for audio-visual feed."

"Standing by."

An instant later a window opened in his HUD, showing an aerial view of the pass that they convoy would have to travel through to get to its destination. He could just make out sunlight glinting off the first repulser truck in the convoy. _Right on time._

"Good job, Sergeant. Stay put and keep sending us images."

"Yes, sir. Shades out."

There was movement to his left, and General Nyine came into his field of view. She cocked her head inquiringly. "Well, Captain? What's the news?"

"Shades and his team are in position, sir. We have live feed, and I can see the convoy. Droids are always predictable."

Edi grinned, her lips pulling back to reveal her teeth. There was a feral gleam in her eye and an answering thrum of excitement shot through Thorn's veins. The fight was about to begin.

"I'm going to check on the forward gun emplacements one more time. You can never be too careful. The last thing we need is a repeat of Cato Nemoidia."

Thorn winced at the embarrassing memory and waved Edi off. He was just turning to look for Lieutenant Shmolt, when his handheld hypercomm began beeping. The captain frowned. That device was only to be used in the most dire emergencies. It was a direct link between the field commanders and the Supreme Chancellor.

_Better answer it._

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><p>Shades squinted through the magnification filter in his HUD, then checked to make sure the hovercam was still in the air. The small metal spheroid hovered high over the pass, diligently recording the convoy's progress.<p>

_So far, so good._

Next to him, Fib shifted, squirming in his prone position before settling again. The man had been moving around endlessly for the pass half hour. Normally, Shades would have put it down to pre-battle agitation, or even plain old restless muscles. But, as always, Fib defied normal. He didn't get jittery before battle, he got _focused_, and it had only gotten worse when Edi started teaching him to meditate.

Fib moved again, this time jostling the other clone. Shades bit back a curse, thankful that Onyx and Lynch were stationed further u the mountain side, and turned to glare at his brother. It was a wasted effort; Fib couldn't see his face through the helmet, but Shades made sure to project his annoyance at the other man. He'd feel it.

"What?" Fib grumbled.

_What? What indeed. He has some nerve._

"Do you have bugs in your armor, because that's the only reason I can think of for you to be squirming around so much. Stop moving before you fall off the side of the mountain. If you do, I'll laugh."

All he got was an irritated sigh. Stillness descended for a few brief seconds before Fib shifted again. Shades slammed his rifle down on the moss covered rock they were lying on.

"Okay, what is it? Something's bothering you, and if you say _it's nothing_, I swear, I will strangle you with your own spinal cord. So out with it. What?"

Fib lay quiet for a second, then propped himself on his elbow to face the irritated sergeant. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's just a… feeling. I can't pin it down, but it's been bothering me since last night."

Shades's heart sank. He'd privately been hoping that Fib had gotten a dose of itching thorn and that was the reason for his restlessness. But it wasn't. The Force was talking to him.

"Does it have anything to do with that dream?"

"I don't know." He sounded frustrated. Fib absently picked at some loose moss on the rock. "Maybe if I had more training I'd get what it was trying to tell me. The Force is always so vague, it's hard to get anything certain out of it."

"Sounds like Intel." Shades laughed weakly, attempting to crack a joke. All he got was a grunt.

Silence fell again. Shades checked on the hovercam again, noting the convoy's position and sending the update back to the main unit. A large avian circled high in the air, on the lookout for a morning meal. Shades carefully maneuvered the hovercam into the shadow of an overhang. The last thing he needed was the cam to be eaten by some bird.

Fib sat up abruptly, yanking off his helmet. He looked at Shades, and his eyes looked like they had that night: wide and frightened.

"Something's wrong."

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><p>Thorn reached down and grabbed his handheld hypercomm, holding it up in his right hand and triggering the device's reception.<p>

A cloaked and hooded figure appeared in washed-out blue over the projector plate. Shifting the device slightly, Thorn stared into the holographic cowl and barely—barely—recognized the face of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Something had obviously happened to disfigure the chancellor's face. Thorn wondered vaguely if there'd been some sort of attack, but it was no concern of his. He waited.

"Captain Five-three-nine-one." Even Palpatine's voice was disfigured; it was deeper now, more menacing. There was no hint of warmth or compassion at all. "The Jedi have betrayed the Republic. Execute Order Sixty-six."

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	3. Chapter 3

**A special thanks to sachariah for helping me with this revised version of this chapter.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>"Captain Five-three-nine-one," said Chancellor Palpatine. "The Jedi have betrayed the Republic. Execute Order Sixty-six."<p>

The image vanished. Thorn could only stare at the dead hypercomm in shocked silence. Traitors. The Jedi… had betrayed the Republic. What? When? How?

Why?

He floated in a state of numb disbelief. Nothing made sense. Nothing was registering. He should be doing something, but he didn't know what. He didn't know. He couldn't move.

Traitors.

He felt like he'd been hit by a huge wave. It smashed him down, driving the breath from his lungs and dragging him under. He tried to struggle free, but the current was too strong. Everything was a dark, airless vortex, and he didn't know which way was up. He wouldn't have been able to find the surface, even if he could move.

Cold panic flooded Thorn's body, and hot betrayal and numbing confusion. It overwhelmed him. His skin was too tight; he couldn't move. He was hyper aware of the drag of his bodysuit on the skin of his arms, the bead of sweat running down his nose, the frantic pounding of his heart that shook his body, yet left him frozen. His vision blurred and the world spun around him, a disorienting miasma of color, shape, and sound. He couldn't even breathe.

Distorted images swirled inside his mind. He could only catch faint glimpses, brief flashes of recognition, before they were gone.

His flash training module on Kamino, showing picture after picture of Republic worlds. A soothing voice repeated in his ear, "The Republic is the heart of civilization. The Chancellor is the heart of the Republic. Obey the Chancellor always."

The faces of the first men he'd been given command of, identical to his own, yet different. They looked at him with confidence, knowing that he would put their welfare above all else.

The faces of those same men, bloodied and battered, some burned beyond recognition.

His reassignment to Renegade. Edi's smiling face the first good memory he had of the war. Her laughter sparkling in his ears. Her back pressed against his, guarding him from what he couldn't see. Those long, unexplained talks with the Council…

Betrayal, anger, regret, confusion disbelief loss uncertainty fury resentment heartache anguish—pain, _pain, PAIN!_

He couldn't handle it. Thorn felt himself disengage, the part of him that was overwhelmed by grief and betrayal falling back and the obedient, unquestioning soldier moving forward to take his place. It was like he was looking from a distance, standing in the background. He heard himself repeat the order over the helmet's internal comm, but it wasn't his voice. He heard cries of dismay, shouts of denial, a choked sob, but none of it registered. His body turned and he saw Edi crouched down next to one of the blaster cannons. The sun shone off her black hair, giving it blue highlights. There was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones. Her nails were clean and cut short, her hands ridged with callouses.

Something inside Thorn was screaming, sobbing like a terrified child. _How could she, how could she? How can this be happening?_

He was watching the world end.

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><p>"Something's wrong."<p>

Shades immediately sat up and sighted down the scope of his DC. He didn't see any threats down the pass. There was nothing on the opposite side, not that he could see. The convoy was still making its slow, deliberate way along the track. Shades didn't see anything to cause alarm.

He slid over next to Fib, their armored hips bumping lightly as he pressed close and slipped off his helmet. "I don't see anything. Think you can be a little more specific?"

Fib got a defocused look, his lips parting slightly and his head tipping back like he was looking at the sky. Shades waited in agitation, his eyes constantly darting between the medic and the surrounding landscape, looking for threats. His attention was jerked back to Fib as he gasped suddenly.

"The camp… Edi!"

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><p>Movement out of the corner of her eye was the only warning Edi had. Instinct took over and she hurled herself to the ground as the whine of a blaster range painfully close to her ears. She summersaulted to her feet, lightsaber flying to her hand—but it was hit by a blaster shot in midair and sent spinning out over the valley below.<p>

Edi whirled, looking wildly. Separatists? Pirates? Local militia? Who was attacking? And why weren't the clones responding?

She turned. Her men were crouched or standing, aiming around trees or each other. Aiming at her.

"What—"

The clones opened fire.

Everything slowed. Around her, the Force resonated with shock, anger, betrayal. It pounded on her chest, in her lungs. Her mind rang with it, echoing like a hollow tree, even as pain flared through her face, the side of her neck. Thoughts registered slowly, sluggishly. They swirled just beneath her conscious grasp, then burst suddenly into bright clarity. Her troops, her _men_, were firing on _her_. This wasn't an accident, or some misunderstanding.

They were firing on her. And they were going to kill her.

Pain exploded in Edi's heart, overwhelming all physical sensation. How could physical pain even exist, when her entire world was shattering around her? These men had been her world from the first time she'd been give command of them and entrusted with their lives. She had put their welfare above all else, even to the point of risking the mission. Thorn had lectured her often on the irrationality of such an act, and she'd had more than one discussion with the Council about her _attachment issue_. But it had all been worth it, if only one more clone hadn't had to die. They were all worth it, every single one of them. In a deep corner of her mind, Edi was actually _glad_ that this horrible war had started. If it hadn't, then she never would have met these incredible men. They were the best thing that had ever happened to her.

_Stop! I love you! Please, stop! _

Edi was aware of distant screams, but somehow, they had no connection to her. She felt no compulsion to help, knew that she couldn't help. The unimaginable _agony_ of this betrayal, that cut deeper than any other wrong ever done to her, was smothering her, crushing her under its weight. Her lungs couldn't expand to breathe. Her heart couldn't pump blood through her veins. She was drowning, drowning, and she didn't know why.

_Why are they doing this? Please, tell me!_

The Force had no answers. She reached for it, but it slipped away, out of her grasp. Its light, which she'd grown up with and had been nurtured by, was gone. She was alone in the dark.

In the end, everything came down only to this. All her Jedi training counted for nothing. The long nights of practice, the years of silent endurance, every mission ever completed, all were worthless. The doubts she'd struggled with, the limitations she'd overcome, all her sacrifices, all her hopes, all her dreams. In the end, they all added up only to this: a general killed by her own soldiers; a Jedi murdered by the clone troopers sworn to protect her; a woman betrayed by the people she loved most in the galaxy.

And she didn't even know _why_.

Blaster fire ripped into her, driving her to her knees. Her wounded and scorched body collapsed to the ground. She cried out as grass and dirt touched her raw, burned flesh. Struggling weakly and choking on sobs, Edi forced herself onto her back.

She didn't want to die, not like this. She was alone, and that scared her more than she could even comprehend. Through the fog of pain, a familiar presence touched her. She reached out to it desperately, begging for help. _Save me!_ she screamed.

The blue morning sky swirled above her. Every cell in her body felt on fire. Her mind was fogged with pain, unable to think straight. She was slipping into a state of shock, barely even able comprehend what was happening around her. Everything had retreated to a distance. It didn't even seem real anymore. A white helmet appeared above her, blotting out the sky. Thorn's helmet, the T-shaped visor so familiar and so _loved_, and for a moment… for a moment she thought everything was going to be all right.

Then she felt the press of a blaster nozzle under her chin. _This can't be happening to me._

"Thorn! Shades! _Fib!_" But Thorn was holding the blaster to her chin, Shades couldn't save her, and Fib was out of reach. She couldn't hear her own cries, but she was sure her lips were moving. The pain—she couldn't breathe.

_This is just a dream._

The faint click of a trigger. And then the pain stopped forever.

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><p>Fib's scream shook Shades so badly that he dropped his DC. The sound echoed off the opposite side of the valley and down the pass, repeating again and again until it faded into the distance. Fib jerked up into a standing position, then toppled backward to crash to the rocky ground. Shades dove forward, grabbing desperately for his brother to keep him from going over the ledge. He crouched over Fib, clutching the back of his head with both hands.<p>

"Fib, what is it? What's happened?"

The medic stared up at Shades with horrified eyes. "Edi. She's hurt, she—" His eyes lost their focus and he let out a strangled wail. "I'm sorry! I can't!" He jerked violently, then went suddenly limp.

Almost panicking, Shades pressed his fingers to the other man's pulse point. He felt a frantic, fluttery beat, as though Fib had been running. The medic's eyes opened and he gazed up at Shades, looking lost.

"She's dead."

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>The war was over.<p>

On every occupied planet, the Separatists' droid army had been shut down. The leaders of the Confederation of Independent Systems were dead. Grievous was dead. The Jedi traitors were dead.

The war was over.

The Republic itself had become a casualty of the war. In its place now stood the first Galactic Empire, and at its head stood Emperor Palpatine. Things changed with frightening efficiency, as though everyone had known this would happen and had simply been waiting. New security laws were enacted for the people's own good. Beings were encouraged to _keep tabs_ on their family and neighbors and to report any possibly treacherous behavior to the authorities. Even names were changed: the Grand Army of the Republic became the Imperial Army, clone troopers were Stormtroopers, Galactic City had become Imperial City, and Coruscant itself was now Imperial Center.

The army had been recalled. All across the galaxy, legions and companies, battalions and units, all had left their bases unoccupied and their battles unfought and returned to the new Imperial capital to be reorganized and reassigned.

The war was over. The Jedi were dead and the Separatists had surrendered. They had won.

_Then why_ thought Shades, _do I feel like we lost?_

He sat quietly on his new bunk and looked around the unfamiliar barracks, watching the movements of clones whose names he didn't know. The atmosphere was subdued. No one was speaking above a whisper, and everyone was trying not to make unnecessary noise. It was nothing like his bunkroom on the _Starlight_ had been. Shades had shared it with seven other brothers, and they'd all been close—and rambunctious. Banter and pillow fights had been regular occurrences, even the occasional practical joke. Shades had known each man's distinct breathing pattern and had been lulled to sleep by them countless times. There was nothing familiar about this bunkroom, neither the men nor their behavior. Maybe they were simply reacting to the atmosphere of uncertainty and unease that had engulfed the whole army. Or maybe they were always like this in the 501st.

Like the rest of the army, Renegade Company had been recalled to Coruscant. _Imperial City, not Coruscant anymore_. The journey had been made in eerie silence. No one had talked unless absolutely necessary. Captain Thorn had stood on the bridge, directing the crew with steely glances and hard silence. Gone was the stern but kind man that had acted as older brother to the company and served as an anchoring force in the roughest weather. He'd died on the final day of the war, at the same time that he'd put his blaster to Edi's chin—Shades's mind threw up barriers between itself and the memory of what he and Fib had found when they'd returned to the camp. Even the slightest glimpse of those memories was enough to have him on his knees, throwing up the meager contents of his stomach as he choked on sobs.

Fib had spent the entire trip secluded in medbay, and after the first six hours, Shades had joined him. He understood perfectly why the medic couldn't stand to be near anyone; if Shades could plainly feel the betrayal and anguish that had swallowed the entire ship, it had to be ten times worse for Fib, who could feel others' pain as though it was his own. Shades was quickly coming to the conclusion that nothing good could come of being Force-sensitive, especially now.

He'd found some solace in his brother's presence, a distraction from the pain, even though they'd barely said a word to each other. The nights had been the worst. After the first night, Shades had taken his pillow and blanket and retreated to the medbay. He'd been quite happy to sleep on the floor of Fib's small room adjoining the medbay, but he'd ended up in the bed with his brother, huddling close for comfort. Shades wasn't a cuddly sort of person, and neither was Fib, but they'd both needed the closeness.

Things were a little better, but not much. Shades had woken up countless times from nightmares full of blood and screams. Other times, Fib had woken him with his own nightmares. Shades would regain consciousness hearing a familiar voice calling, and for a moment he'd think it was Edi. Then he'd recognize Fib's voice, he'd remember everything, and the world would break around him yet again.

Fib's nightmares didn't seem to be the same as Shades's. He didn't dream about what happened on Beta Gabriel. Instead, he moaned and twisted in his sleep, calling out names in a whispery, desperate voice. Some names Shades recognized: Kenobi, Mace Windu, Secura, Yoda; and others he didn't know: Rube Dune, Zaran Sparr, Etain. At one point, Shades distinctly heard Fib sob, "General Skywalker, why did you do this?"

The only thing Shades could do was to try to comfort his brother. He'd wrapped himself around the other man and held him tightly, praying that it would all just end.

Everything had changed when they'd reached Coruscant. Renegade Company had been disbanded, the clones reassigned to different legions. Shades himself had been assigned to Quasar Company in the 501st. He didn't know where any of his brothers had been sent. He suspected he'd never see any of them again.

Shades pulled his feet up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around them, holding his knees to his chest. He winced and shifted as his new armor pinched uncomfortably. He'd been given a new set of white armor when he'd been assigned his bunk. Shades didn't like the new phase IV armor. It pinched in strange places and rubbed uncomfortably against his thighs and lower back. The helmet smelled different from his old one. There were no smells associated with a man who lived inside it almost twenty-four/seven. The helmet smelled new and fresh. It smelled dead.

And he could swear the thing was staring at him. Shades glanced at the helmet that sat next to him on his bunk, then reached out and turned it so that the visor faced the wall.

"Creepy, isn't it?"

Shades glanced up at the clone on the bunk across from him. The top half of his bodysuit was hanging loosely around his waist and he was still wearing his leg armor. His hair was a standard buzz cut, save for the yellow stripe down the center. He gave Shades a lopsided smile and leaned across the space between their bunks, hand extended.

"Name's Wiley."

Shades paused, then accepted the gesture, clasping his brother's forearm just below the elbow. "Shades."

"So, Shades," said Wiley, settling back on his bunk. "You're new to the glorious five-oh-first. Where you from?"

The question was simple, the answer was simple, but the emotions and memories that were tied in with it were anything but. Shades's throat tightened and his eyes burned. He was suddenly swamped with a grief so overwhelming that he actually felt his heart stutter in his chest. He wanted to scream and cry and beat his fists bloody against the wall. But he couldn't, not here, not with these men. They may have had his face, but they were strangers. They hadn't known Edi, they hadn't loved her, and they had no right to see him cry for her, even if she was a traitor and didn't deserve tears. These men were clones, but they weren't his brothers.

Shades coughed harshly to clear his throat before answering. "I was in Renegade Company."

Wiley nodded thoughtfully before glancing at the chrono on the wall. He cursed quietly and started yanking on his bodysuit and attaching his plates. "Better suit up, Shades. Don't want to miss the briefing."

"What briefing?"

"The briefing being given by his Imperial Majesty himself, Lord Vader. They're doing some shuffling in the five-oh-first command structure and Lord Vader wants to brief the legion personally. Gotta hand it to the guy, he sure knows how to boost morale. Leading by example, and all that."

Shades grabbed his helmet and stood up, waiting for the other clone to finish dressing. He'd heard of this Lord Vader, but he'd never seen the man in person. Assuming he was a man. Anything could be under that helmet. It bothered Shades, imagining what might be under there. He wished he could see. To most people, it would seem strange that a clone would be uncomfortable seeing a helmet and not the face behind it. But Shades always knew what was behind his brothers' helmets. There were small variations in hair color and scaring, but in the end, it was all the same, familiar face. With Vader… who knew.

Shades and Wiley left the bunkroom together. They dawned their helmets and were instantly lost in a sea of identical white armor.

The briefing room was enormous. It would have to be to accommodate a legion of 5,000 men. There were rows of folding chairs bolted to the floor and a raised platform at the front. Shades followed Wiley down to the second row of seats. "You're going to want a good view," the other clone explained. All the seats were soon filled. They'd only been waiting for two minutes before Lord Vader entered the room.

There was one snap of armor as every man sprang to attention. Being so close to the front, Shades had an excellent view of the man. His first impression was of a huge dark figure that filled half the room. Vader was tall, at least a good head taller than any clone. A long black cloak billowed from his shoulders as he paced to the center of the stage. He turned to face his audience, and Shades finally got a full front view. The helmet was intimidating in person, with a sleek black dome like a human skull; large, bulbous black eyes that resembled those of some cave-dwelling fish; and a square, bulky jaw that reminded Shades of a predator's mouth crammed full of spiny teeth. Each breath that pumped out of his chest filled the room, rattling like the breath of a dying man. When he finally spoke, it was in a deep voice, a voice that demanded that all take notice and obey. "At ease. Be seated."

Shades sat in unison with the rest of the men. Vader didn't waste time on pleasantries or psych games. He launched right into what he had to say. He spoke plainly and directly and right to his men. He didn't talk down to them because they were clones. And there was so much certainty behind every word as he spoke about the Jedi's betrayal that, for a second, Shades began to believe that everything had turned out for the best. Then his new armor gave him a sharp pinch, and the spell was broken.

Anger crashed down on him. He could go for hours without thinking of the Jedi's betrayal, then it would hit him and the world would end all over again. _How could they do that to us? We died for them and they were just using us, like everyone else._ And yet, when he thought of Edi, denial roared up in him so strongly that it left him dizzy. He couldn't believe that Edi had known about it; there was no way that she could have been in on the plan. She'd simply been caught in the crossfire, yet another innocent victim in the Jedi's high-minded attempt to save the galaxy. That had to be it. She couldn't have betrayed them. She couldn't have…

Vader was wrapping up his motivational speech with an injunction to watch everyone, because Force-users could be anyone and anywhere, and it was their duty as Imperial Stormtroopers to report any suspected Force-user immediately. Apparently, the fate of the galaxy depended on it.

Now that Shades was listening to _what_ Vader was saying instead of how he was saying it, it all sounded like a load of _osik_, at least the part about Force-users being a threat to galactic security. Fib was a Force-user, and he had no interest in overthrowing the Empire. He glanced over at Wiley to see what he thought of it all. It was obvious by the man's body language—perched on the edge of the seat, hands clasping knees, chin tilted up—that the other clone was hanging on Vader's every word.

The speech had started quickly and was over quickly. Vader had already swept off the stage before Shades had realized that they'd been dismissed. Once Lord Vader had left the room, the clones began filing toward the exit, though there was no sense of urgency to the movement. Many even took off their helmets.

"That was really something, wasn't it?" sighed Wiley as he slid off his helmet. "Lord Vader really knows what he's talking about."

"I guess," Shades mumbled. He wasn't in the mood for talking.

Wiley continued on, oblivious. "I mean, those Jedi got what was coming to them. They betrayed the Republic and the Chancellor's trust. That's just unforgivable. And did you hear the part about 'bringing the hammer of Imperial justice down on their scheming heads'? Brilliant, just brilliant. Lord Vader's got the right idea. Get rid of all the Force-users so that normal people can live in peace. I can tell you, I'm behind him one hundred percent." He reached into the crowd and snagged another clone that was walking by himself. His head was shaved clean and he wore a quiet, thoughtful expression on his face. "Wha'd you think, Noble?"

Noble considered before answering, his left hand fingering his chin lightly_. _"He had some valid points," he said slowly. "But I feel that he was missing some crucial evidence that could have given him a stronger foundation for his argument."

"Whatever," said Wiley, smacking his brother playfully but sharply on the head. He leaned over to Shades and said in a loud whisper designed to be overheard, "Ignore Noble. He doesn't know what he's talking about more than half the time. I think the Kaminoans spiked his growth vat with something that kept enough oxygen from getting to his brain."

Shades raised his eyebrows. He'd thought Noble had made a good point.

"Anyway," said Wiley in a normal voice, "Noble, this is Shades, formerly of Renegade Company. He's in Quasar, like us."

Noble nodded solemnly to Shades, but didn't say anything.

Wiley tossed an arm over Shades's shoulders. "Don't mind him, he doesn't talk much." Shades's jaw twitched in annoyance. He didn't know what right this man thought he had to treat him as though they were friends. Wiley continued rambling, oblivious to Shades's dour mood. "You know, you're not the first newbie we've got. 'bout six others arrived 'round same time you did, all vets. They're doin' a major shakeup in the army."

Shades stopped listening after that. He let his eyes roam ahead, idly scanning over different hairstyles and white helmets. Then his eye caught something, and his body reacted before his mind could register what was going on. He'd ducked out from under Wiley's arm and was shoving his way through the crowd before he'd even realized what he'd seen: a flash of red.

_It can't be. No way in _haran_ that he'd end up here with me. No kriffing way._

There were cries of protest from the clones he'd shoved aside, but Shades didn't care. He felt like he was forcing his way upstream, fighting against a strong current that was determined to keep him from his goal. He stretched out his arm, straining to reach. _Almost there, almost there…_

His grasping fingers closed on an armored shoulder, and he yanked, spinning the guy around. He saw an indignant face, black eyebrows drawn together in a scowl over warm brown eyes that widened in shock when they saw him. Bright red hair fell into the man's eyes.

"Shades?" he whispered in a quiet, disbelieving voice.

For an instant, he couldn't speak. That face, that familiar, beautiful, loved face carried so many memories with it that for a second, he was choked with grief all over again. Then a familiar hand touched the side of his face, gently cupping his cheek, and all the aches from exhaustion and tenderness where his armor had rubbed dissolved away. With the physical pain went the heartache, at least enough that he could find his voice.

"Hey, Fib."

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><p><strong>This really will be my last post for a while. College starts Sunday. Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>The hand was a leaden weight on his shoulder. It dragged him forcibly from the beauty of the moment and back into the awful world that had become his reality. Almost snarling, Shades rounded on Wiley who stepped back, hands raised in supplication and a startled look on his face.<p>

"Whoa there. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I take it you two know each other?" He glanced between Shades and Fib and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Nice hair," he added, nodding at Fib's shaggy mop of bright red hair.

Fib stepped forward and peered over Shades's shoulder at the other clone, a speculative scowl on his face. "Who's the nosey interloper?"

Shades shook his head to clear it. "This is Wiley. He's in Quasar Company. And that," he gestured to the curious Noble who had come to join them, "is Noble, also in Quasar. Guys, this is Fib. He and I were… were in Renegade together." He had to clear his throat to dislodge the suddenly painful lump that had clogged it.

Fib's hand grasped his shoulder in silent support. Shades took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders.

Things were different now. The Republic was gone. The Jedi were gone. Everything that Shades had been taught to believe in and had learned to love was gone. His brothers were gone.

Edi was gone. Everything was darkness.

But he wasn't alone anymore. Now Fib was here, and a small light had come back into his dark world. He couldn't see enough to run, but maybe he could see just enough to fumble his way to the end one day.

Either way, he had hope again.

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><p>Things weren't easy. This new life Shades was struggling to understand was even more restricted than his old one. Armor with individualized markings was no longer allowed, tattooing was frowned upon, and unique hairstyles and colors were frowned upon. The Emperor wanted everything to be uniform, and the clones' little ways of showing individuality was a nuisance that he would ultimately see erased.<p>

Many clones had complied with the new standards without complaint. Wiley's hair had been regulation cut and color the morning after the announcement had been delivered, not by Vader, but one of his many underlings. Shades's hair had always been regulation cut, and he'd never had much interest in changing its color. He wasn't an artist.

Despite the new regulations, some clones still kept their hair in their own unique style. Noble's head remained clean shaven. He maintained that he didn't like the itchy feeling of sweaty hair under a helmet. And Fib's hair stayed its bright, stubborn red. When Wiley bugged him about it, the medic gave the man such a quelling stare that he'd excused himself. Shades knew that no amount of regulations could convince Fib to change his hairstyle. It wasn't some stupid bravado about remaining an individual—his dead brother Grayson had given him that hair color. It was the only thing that Fib had left to remember him by. He'd never change it.

Along with signs of individuality, the clones' already limited freedom had been all but eliminated. Random excursions off base were forbidden. The clones now found themselves confined to their barracks, and as a result, turned to each other even more for entertainment and companionship.

Shades spent almost all his time with Fib. They ate together, trained together, exercised together. Fib was Shades's last link to his old life in Renegade, and even though the memories that he evoked were so painful that sometimes the sergeant couldn't bear to look at him, he would never give up the friendship they had. It was too important, too much an essential.

It had come to the point where Shades wasn't certain what would be left of him if Fib went away. They had grown together, intertwined and changed forever by it, like two trees growing side by side, coiling around each other until it was impossible to separate one from the other. Each had become so integral to the other that neither could exist fully as they were now without each other.

They needed each other, now more than ever. It was a very rare night that wasn't haunted by a nightmare. Shades had recurring dreams of Edi, her body charred by blaster shots and face half covered in blood, standing in front of him, asking over and over, "I loved you. How could you do this to me?" But when Shades tried to answer, he couldn't find his voice. He could only stand mutely in the dark as his dead friend asked again and again in a plaintive voice why he had betrayed her. In the end, she would simply crumble into ash that was scattered by a cold wind.

After he woke up, Shades could never get back to sleep. He usually ended up leaving his bunkroom and going to Fib's. There, he would sit on the floor and watch his brother sleep. It calmed him.

Wiley and Noble had become semi regular parts of Shades's life. The four ate meals together and trained together in group exercises.

Wiley got on Shades's nerves on a regular basis. He had a very annoying habit of draping an arm around the sergeant's shoulders as though they were longtime friends. The only person that Shades was comfortable with touching him these days was Fib.

Wiley had a tendency to chatter on about topics that Shades wasn't interested in. It was hard to have a conversation with the guy; when he got going, Wiley plowed right over anyone who tried to contribute. It was impossible to get a word in edgewise. Conversing with Wiley was more like being an audience to a dramatic monolog.

And then there was his obsession with Vader. Shades was a little alarmed by how devoted Wiley was, how hungry he was for the littlest word, the slightest show of acknowledgement. He took everything that Vader said to heart and obeyed it like scripture. Such unquestioning loyalty didn't seem healthy.

Despite all this, Wiley was an okay guy. He had a surprising sense of humor and came up with the strangest jokes that made you laugh for the sheer absurdity of them. And he had a real knack for rigging ingenious traps from spare parts he kept in a pouch on his belt. Wiley certainly wouldn't have been Shades's first choice of friends, or even his second, but he was learning to find things to admire, and even like, in the other.

Noble was as different from Wiley as a sage from a war monger. He was a quiet, thoughtful person, introspective by nature. He had trouble talking to people he didn't know well, and often came off as slow or dimwitted because of it. And since anyone he was talking to often had Wiley to compare him to, to most people he seemed downright stupid.

But nothing could be farther from the truth. Noble had an amazingly intelligent and analytical mind. Give him a scenario, and he could give you fifty likely outcomes in order of probability. He could perform complex math in his head and recite back word for word any conversation he'd ever heard. Shades was constantly amazed by what he could accomplish and told him so on a regular basis. It was painfully clear that Noble rarely received praise or encouragement for his abilities. He got this blank look when he was complimented, as though he didn't understand what had been said. Shades remembered what it had been like when praise was a foreign concept, and he was determined to change that for the other clone.

Months passed. The 501st was often sent on missions that Lord Vader deemed of top priority. The legion soon acquired a name that proceeded them to every planet and star system and made beings tremble with fear: Vader's Fist.

Shades and Fib kept to themselves in Quasar. The only people they associated with on a regular basis were Wiley and Noble. They let no one else close. It was too painful, and Shades didn't entirely trust his brothers anymore. He'd never been able to figure just what the Jedi had done to betray the Republic, but a little voice inside him whispered that however treasoness their attempt to overthrow Emperor Palpatine had been, the clones had done something far worse when they'd shot their commanding officers in the back, order or no order. If you betrayed someone once, you could do it again, and Shades wanted no part of it. Neither did Fib.

He sometimes wondered where his real brothers—his brothers from Renegade—had ended up. He tried to imagine Lieutenant Shmolt or Captain Thorn in the new armor, but he couldn't. They were frozen in time in his mind, forever garbed in their old style armor, helmets tucked under their arms, smiling. Well, Thorn was smiling; Shmolt was looking on with slight disapproval. He didn't think about them often, because he'd had as much crying as he could take for a lifetime or two.

He never touched his memories of Edi.

Shades knew about the five stages of grief; he'd learned about them in battle psychology on Kamino: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. The training sergeant had listed them out like a map of air taxi stops on the road back to "normal." What he hadn't said was that Shades would feel them all out of order or all at once. And he hadn't said what "normal" would be like once he reached it.

_Will I ever reach it? And what's normal, now that Edi and my brothers are gone? Dose "normal" even exist for me anymore?_

When he'd voiced these thoughts to Fib, the medic had looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Are you seriously thinking about that? First off, all psychologists are whack jobs with degrees that enjoy telling people how messed up they are. Don't listen to a thing they tell you. Secondly, no, the normal you're looking for doesn't exist anymore. Don't bother looking for it, because you'll only hurt yourself needlessly in the process."

Shades had winced at the harsh words. Fib never pulled his punches, and he never said anything unless he meant it. He saw doing anything else as a waist of breath. Then Fib had put a gentle hand on Shades's shoulder and given him a rare, tired and frayed smile. "All you can do is take it one day at a time. And you don't have to do it alone. Maybe we can make our own 'normal' together."

_Together_. Shades liked the sound of that.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>"Oh… fierfek…"<p>

Shades moaned and tightened his death grip on the rail. His body trembled. It felt like fever wasp larvae were hatching in his abdomen and feeding on his insides as they ate their way out of him. Sweat stung his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to stop the world rolling around him, but the sensation continued. He was certain he'd been shot by one of those solid projectiles that exploded on Impact. He was in agony.

_Oh, Force, let me die. Just let it end._

"This is pathetic."

The uncaring voice emanated from somewhere behind him, dry with annoyance. Shades groaned, hoping to elicit some sympathy.

"You do realize that we're not even moving."

Obviously none was forthcoming. Shades let out a piteous whimper and immediately clamped his mouth shut as his guts fought to turn themselves inside-out.

" 'm dying," he moaned through clenched teeth.

"You're not dying; you're seasick. Which is surprising, considering that you grew up on _Kamino_, which is an ocean world, in case you've forgotten. What's even more amazing is the fact that you're puking your guts out on a sub that _isn't moving_. We've been drifting in more or less the same spot for two hours."

Shades groaned again and heaved over the side. He'd completely emptied his stomach hours ago. All he could do now was dry heave. And Fib could care less.

"You're a 'orible person," he mumbled. It was a battle of will just to get the words out.

"Don't even go there. I offered you a seasickness pill before we disembarked, but you didn't want it. I believe your exact words were _Keep your kriffing pills to yourself_. Now you're sick and it's your own stupid fault. I tried to help, but you wouldn't listen. So I hope you're happy, because I'm not going to heal you. Maybe you'll learn a lesson. I have no sympathy."

The distant sound of armored boots on metal made its way to Shades's ears, followed by the hollow _thunk_ of a hatch opening and closing. He would have screamed in frustration if he'd dared to open his mouth.

Cracking an eye open, Shades squinted at the endless expanse of blue ocean that stretched out before him, its surface dotted with white caps and the upper casings of sixty-two Ubrikkian repulsersubs. The sun reflected brightly of its undulating surface from somewhere above and behind him. His eye snapped shut as his stomach churned urgently.

_Anything but this. Anywhere but here._

The 501st legion had been dispatched to Mon Calamari two weeks ago to do some "peace keeping." In reality, they'd been sent to put some overly rebellious activists in line. Rumor had it that there were even some splinters of an infant rebel group calling itself the Rebel Alliance involved. But weather this was true or not was irrelevant. The Emperor had noticed the beginnings of unrest on the ocean world, and he wanted it stopped. And what the Emperor wanted, the Emperor got.

Shades didn't care. He would give _anything_ to be anywhere else, doing anything else. He would have quite cheerfully stood eight hours of night watch over a garbage ship if would get him off this accursed water. In the back of his mind, Shades thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't been assigned to the galactic navy. He wasn't sure if someone could go insane from being constantly seasick, but he was certain that he would have managed it somehow.

Shades wasn't ever aware that someone else was on the sub's top casing until he was startled out of his misery by a dull metal clank as someone in armor sat down next to him.

"How are you doing?" The voice was soft, the tone punctuated by a gentle rolling of the r's. Shades could've picked Noble's voice out of a crowd if the man would ever talk loud enough to be heard in one.

"Terrible." It was said as a statement of fact.

Silence settled. That was usually how conversations went with Noble. A few words, then silence. Shades had figured out that, if he listened right, he could often learn more from the other clone's silences than from his words. He listened now, shifting his attention from his upset stomach to the man next to him. A small click of armor shifting against metal. The sound of Noble's helmet bumping against the back of his armor from where it hung on his belt. Deep, unhurried breathing. The softest of flutterings: a calm heartbeat. Shades felt his own pulse, exhilarated by stress, slow until it was in since with the other's.

Noble was calm, with that slight nervous edge that was common before any engagement. No… that wasn't quite right. Noble was always calm, at least on the surface. He rarely got riled. Shades's brows furrowed as he listened harder, seasickness completely forgotten.

Noble was calm, but it ran deeper than that. He was… at ease. He was at peace, with both himself and the world. That was a state that the shy clone rarely seemed to inhabit.

Shades opened both his eyes and studied the other's profile, the way the shadows etched the lines of his face and how the sunlight was caught in his eyelashes. His clean shaven head shimmered and the water cast strange, rippling shadows of light on his chin and throat. Something small caught Shades's eyes and drew his attention. A dimpled, scared area, just at the base of the other clone's skull.

He raised his hand, fingers extended to touch, when Noble abruptly turned his head to look at him. The sergeant hastily lowered his hand and curled his fingers around the rail. Noble's face bore its usual expression of calm thought, but his eyes swam with shadows. He held Shades's gaze for five heartbeats, and then turned to look out to sea.

"The Kaminoans were running some experiments." His voice was so soft that Shades had to strain to hear it over the sound of waves hitting the sub's casing. "They already knew what happened when they tinkered with the genes that controlled memory and intelligence before a clone was out of the gestation tank. They had the Nulls. But they wanted to know if any significant alterations could be made once a clone was developed physically. I don't know why they chose me, but they did. It was only once or twice a week. They'd pull me out of training and take me to one of the labs where they'd inject stuff into the back of my neck."

His fingers fluttered up to the small scar at the base of his skull in an unconscious movement, hovering over the impression, but not touching.

"Weird things started happening. I saw more, heard more, felt more. And I remembered it all. When we did navigation calculations in training, I could see numbers and symbols made of light hanging in the air. They showed me the problem, the steps to solve it, and the solution. It was exhilarating. But when I tried to tell my brothers…"

His voice faltered and he trailed off. Shades could see Noble's pain in his hunched shoulders and slightly bowed head. He could feel the rejection, a sharp knife blade trailing across his skin in the gentlest of caresses.

Noble made a sound like a strangled hiccup, then cleared his throat and continued. "My brothers thought I was losing my mind. I couldn't tell them about what the Kaminoans were doing; they'd ordered me to stay silent. My brothers stopped taking my advice in training exercises. They stopped including me in our downtime. Eventually…they stopped listening to me at all. So I stopped talking."

Shades stared at the other man now, sorrow and anger churning in his empty stomach. He understood all too well that feeling of loneliness and isolation.

If everything you said got ignored, then you became afraid of everyone. Eventually, you wouldn't even be able to speak, even knowing that all that did was bother people. Everything felt completely dark. Your heart shut down.

And your words died.

Shades understood completely. A brief image of a closed door and a raised fist filled his mind, followed by a memory of armored backs turning away from him. A bone deep chill settled over him. Shades couldn't swallow. His throat was sealed shut.

_No one would listen. No one believed me; or they knew and they didn't care._

The old darkness that had haunted him back then reared its ugly head. But Shades was stronger than he had been. He was a different person, a better person, and he could fight this monster now and drive it back. He brandished his memories, wielding them like a lightsaber: the pride in Thorn's eyes, the reassurance in Fib's touch, the love in Edi's smile. Together they burned so brightly that the darkness fled, whimpering in fear, to hide somewhere far from their light.

But even as Shades banished the darkness of his long ago past, fresh tears rose in his throat and choked him. Edi…Thorn…

Eight months hadn't been long enough to banish his grief at their deaths. He wasn't certain which was worse: the fact that Edi was dead, or that Thorn wasn't.

He doubted he'd ever get over losing them. He didn't want to. But each day Shades found it a little easier to get up in the morning, a little easier to keep living. He wasn't recovering, only learning to live with a permanent debilitation.

But he always had Fib. As long as his brother was there, he could hold himself together and keep going.

His attention was draw back to Noble as the other shifted. His eyes had gone defocused as he stared off at the horizon. When he spoke, his voice was still quiet, but some of the tension had gone out of it.

"Things changed when Wiley was transferred to our training company. I don't know what he did to get transferred, but he was there. I'm glad he was. He didn't ignore me like the others, and he didn't care that I didn't talk. I think he just liked having someone to talk to that didn't try to interrupt. But it was good to have someone talk to me. It made me…happy. I know Wiley can be a bit of a jerk, but he's my best friend."

Shades understood that sentiment as well. He put a hand on Noble's armored shoulder. "I'm your friend, too."

Noble looked at him in surprise, as if he'd forgotten that Shades was there. He ducked his head as though he were embarrassed and gave the clone sergeant a small, shy smile. Shades smiled back, his seasickness completely gone.

He scrambled up, muscles stiff from two hours of crouching on hard metal. After a brief stretch, he looked down at the clone still seated at his feet and extended a hand. The other man hesitated, then took it gingerly before tightening his grip. Shades clasped Noble's hand—his brother's hand—and pulled him to his feet.

Once they were both up, Shades grinned and slapped the other good naturedly on the back. "Thanks for distracting me. It really helped. How about we go below and clean our DCs?"

Noble nodded. Another small smile curved his lips and sparkled in his eyes. He seemed to be standing straighter.

Just as he opened the hatch, the hairs rose on the back of Shades's neck as he heard a high-pitched whistle scream through the air. _Missile_, he thought, and a second later, _Kriff_.

He grabbed Noble's arm and yelled for him to run. They practically fell down the ladder and scrambled through the sub's cramped halls as emergency sirens began to blare around them and other clones struggled through the confined spaces to get to their emergency stations. Amongst the chaos, Shades could only wonder where the missile had come from.

Even over the blaring sirens, he could hear the projectile drop in pitch as it hurtled closer. The missile exploded on impact, sending out a shockwave that Shades felt ripple against his chest. Metal plating bucked and pipes burst. Shades fell to the deck, managing to catch himself on his forearms so he didn't do a face plant. Noble was tossed into a wall. Even before his senses cleared, Shades was struggling to his feet. A moment later, Noble tried to get up, but he only made it to his knees. He touched his left side and grimaced; the glove came away red.

"Shades…we have to…have to get out of here."

"Okay." Shades watched the stain rolling down Noble's armor. A stripe of carmine, growing, growing, growing…

_Fib will know what to do._

"Can you run?" he asked.

Noble shook his head. Shades could see that he was having trouble breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He grabbed Noble's arm, pulling him into a rescue worker's carry. Noble gritted his teeth as the sergeant sprinted towards the medbay.

Rationally, Shades knew that the medbay was no safer than anywhere else on this death trap of a sub. But he wasn't thinking rationally. He was acting on instinct, one that ran deeper even than his years of training. Fib was in medbay, and wherever Fib was was safe.

In his single-minded concentration, Shades barely missed running down another clone who was trying to go through the same hatch that he was trying to use. It took him a second to recognize Wiley. He met Shades's eyes, then looked at the man draped across his back. His face went white. Without a word—an amazing occurrence, that—he stepped aside to let Shades through, then followed him at a run.

"_Shab_." Fib was at the entrance of the medbay, armored up and rifle loaded as Shades and Wiley ducked inside. "Put him here." The medic directed them to the sub's single operating table. "What happened?"

Shades was out of breath, barely managing to gasp, "…missile…hit and…Noble…"

"Help me get his armor off." Fib's voice broached no argument. This was his medbay, and in here, he was the highest authority.

Shades scrambled to help him while Wiley hung back, almost like he was afraid to come too close. On the table, Noble moaned through gritted teeth.

They sat him up long enough to remove his chest and back plates. Fib ripped off the black bodysuit and wiped away the blood that leaked from the split, raw flesh. He removed his gloves and inspected the wound, fingers barely goasting over the skin. Shades could see it easily from his position beside the medic. It was against Noble's left side, right up under his arm. Not good…

Fib grunted and rummaged in his medical bag before cursing eloquently and turning back to the clone on the table.

"There's a piece of shrapnel, and it's digging into your chest. I have to get it out, but I'm out of painkillers. It'll hurt, but I have to do this or it'll get worse."

Brown eyes stared in panic, breathing erratic, as Fib picked up a pair of long silver tweezers and rinsed them in disinfectant. Shades's heart stuttered at the idea of the pain that Noble was about to feel. He understood that Fib didn't want to use the Force more than necessary, but still…

"Shades, hold him down."

"…wait…" Noble wheezed, but Shades already had an armed fastened across his hip. He grabbed the other man's wrists and forced them over his head. Fib wasted no time in jabbing into the open pink flesh. Noble's muscles jerked as the sub jerked around them. He let out a chocked howl as the tweezers clutched the jagged edge of the shrapnel.

"Keep him quiet!" Fib hissed. Forgotten in the background, Wiley let out a strangled curse and pressed both hands to his own mouth, his body shaking.

Shades released the other clone's hip and clamped that hand to his mouth. Noble looked at him in fear, all dark eyes and angled shadows; he looked at him like he'd been betrayed. Leaning in close, Shades whispered to him over and over that it was going to be okay, and Noble cursed into the open palm. Fib worked the shrapnel loose with one last tug, tearing the lacerated skin on the way out. Shades immediately released the writhing body beneath him. Blood dribbled out in a steady flow, bubbling with each labored breath. Noble coughed, a dry hacking sound that filled the room now empty of the emergency siren, and then fell silent. Fib frowned and bent close to the wound, his hand skimming its surface.

"What's wrong?" Shades leaned over Noble, touching his cheek; he didn't move.

"His lung collapsed." Fib plunged into the drawer next to the operating table. "And we need a Heimlich valve or…or a chest tube, or we need…_osik_ we don't have!"

"Fib, he's not breathing."

_"I know!"_

Shades couldn't banish his rising panic. "What do we do?" he whispered.

In the corner of the room, Wiley had slid to the floor, knees pressed tightly to his chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other hand still pressed to his mouth. His eyes were wide and swimming with tears.

_What do we do?_

Fib stood still, head lowered in thought. It jerked occasionally, like he was arguing with himself. His head shot up abruptly, his eyes smoldering.

"Vape it," he growled, lips pulling back into a snarl. "Vape it all."

He moved in a rush, shoving Shades off the table and taking his place, bending low over the unresponsive body. Taking a deep breath, he placed one palm flat on Noble's chest and the other over the wound under his arm. His eyes drifted shut and his head fell forward, hands pressing firmly into pale skin. His thumbs stroked it almost absently.

Shades moved back to stand next to Wiley. Fib had obviously decided that it was worth the risk of getting caught to Force heal Noble. Even as his stomach knotted in apprehension, Shades couldn't disagree. On the floor next to him, Wiley stared in utter confusion at the two clones on the table.

Shades's hands curled into fists at his sides. He didn't take his eyes off the two men.

_Please_, he thought. _Please._

Noble couldn't die. Not now, just when Shades had found another brother. The thought of the quiet, kind man lying dead on a table was sickening. It wasn't fair.

With a suddenness that startled Shades, Noble gasped. It sounded like someone had forced air into a deflated bolo ball. Wiley jumped like someone had discharged a blaster behind him and pressed back into the wall. Noble's ragged breathing filled the small room.

As Shades watched, the ragged wound under Noble's arm began to close. The bleeding stopped. The skin seemed to crawl, then flow together over the hole. Color seeped back into Noble's cheeks, and he took one last shuddering breath before relaxing back onto the table, breathing steadily.

Fib sat back, slowly removing his hands. He was tired and pale, as though the color that now suffused Noble had been leeched from him.

Shades moved forward quickly to help Fib down from the table. The medic leaned against him, weak and exhausted from his efforts. Healing was draining; the majority of the energy required came from the healer himself.

Wiley rose slowly to his feet. His eyes darted between Fib and his friend resting peacefully on the operating table. The wound was completely gone, only trails of blood and a thin pink line remaining to show that it had ever existed. Wiley's tongue slid out, licking across dry lips. He didn't move to join the two clones holding each other by the operating table. He stayed where he was, forgotten in the relief and exhaustion of the moment.

Shades held tightly to Fib as his brother leaned against him, but he could feel his own muscles shaking as the adrenaline faded out of them. Relief crashed down on him, almost causing his knees to buckle. Fib had healed Noble, and he would live.

The medic turned his head where it rested on Shades's shoulder, lips brushing his ear, and whispered, "I want to go home now."

* * *

><p>Shades couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see Coruscant. He didn't care that the planet's name had been changed to Imperial Center. It would always be Coruscant to him.<p>

The city's night lights winked invitingly as the transport shuttle pulled up in front of the 501st barracks. Shades stumbled out, followed closely by Fib and Noble. Wiley stepped out last. He had a distracted look on his face, his mind obviously elsewhere.

"Food, shower, bed," Shades mumbled. "And not necessarily in that order."

"I'm going to bed," Fib declared. "I don't care if I stink. It can wait until morning."

A loud growl from Noble's stomach made Shades chuckle. "Food, I take it?" he asked his brother, grinning playfully.

Noble blushed and nodded.

He hadn't changed outwardly at all since the day that Fib had healed him, but he did seem more at ease around both Fib and Shades. And best of all, he didn't remember any of it. Shades wondered if it was natural memory loss due to trauma, or if Fib had done something with the Force. Either way, he decided, it was for the best.

As the three turned to follow the rest of Quasar into their section of the barracks, Wiley paused at the front entrance, then called after them, "I'll catch up. There's some stuff I need to take care of first."

Shades waved over his shoulder in acknowledgement, not really paying attention. He was too distracted by the enticing idea of a full stomach, a hot shower, and a soft bed. Once inside, Fib left for his room while Shades and Noble made a quick stop by the mess hall. Then Shades continued onto the showers while Noble stumbled off to their bunk room.

Shades groaned as hot water poured from the faucet, pounding against his sore back in a heavenly massage. He only stayed in the stall long enough to wash his hair and body. Sleep was pulling at his eyelids and making them heavy.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he was able to collapse onto his bunk and sink onto the mattress. The last thing he noticed before he sunk into the sweet oblivion of sleep was that Wiley's bunk was still empty.

* * *

><p>The knock is soft, almost timid, but the tall dark figure notices all the same.<p>

"Enter." The voice is deep and commanding, rising over the _hiss_ of eternal mechanical breathing that fills the room.

The door slides open and a figure in armor enters. The whiteness of it is picked out brightly against the gloom of the chamber, like bleached bone on a dark canyon floor. The man moves forward to stand before the chair in which the pillar of shadow is seated. His own breathing cannot be heard over the relentless whisper of constantly recycled air.

"What is it, trooper?"

"Lord Vader." The armored man's voice is frightened, conflicted, yet full of eagerness. He inches closer to the chair and the darkness in it. "I have something to tell you."

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><p><strong>I think this is my longest chapter so far. Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the long wait. I decided to change the title of the story because the old one just didn't seem to fit anymore. The new one comes from a song by Trading Yesterday with the same title. I suggest listening to it; it's pretty good. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

**I d not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Shades awoke with an instant knowledge that something was wrong. He didn't know what it was, or where the feeling came from, but something was wrong. Maybe a smell that wasn't quite right, a sound that was out of place, a shadow that moved a little too quickly, or a gentle gust of air that made his skin prickle. He didn't know what, but something wasn't right.<p>

Shades cracked an eye open, just enough to see through his lashes. The room wasn't entirely dark; light filtered in through the partially tinted windows from the base outside and glowed dully from the reflective strips that lined the walkway between the bunks. The sound of sleeping men filled the room, grunts and snores interspersed with indistinct mumbles, and, under it all, the quiet _hum_ of the AC unit. Then something moved and Shades turned his head sharply in its direction, his eyes snapping open.

But it was only Wiley making his quiet way back to his bunk. Whatever business he'd had to take care of had taken a long time; the glowing chrono above his bunk read 0256. Each of Wiley's steps dragged on the carpet, as though he carried something heavy on his back. He looked weary and footsore, worn out, and yet he seemed to be walking straighter for some reason.

Shades propped himself up on his elbows as the other clone came level with his bunk and raised questioning eyebrows. "Well, what kept you out so late? Did Captain Poul keep you up scrubbing floors?" When no response was forthcoming, Shades smirked. "Was it a girl?" he asked slyly.

Wiley's back stiffened slightly and he turned to face the sergeant. His face was blanketed in the room's darkness, and his eyes swam with shadows, all accept for two small pinpricks of light at their centers.

"No." His voice was horse and slightly raspy. "I was…talking to someone."

Shades sat up fully now, curious. "Really? Who?"

But Wiley only shook his head, taking a step back. His entire body was swallowed by the shadows cast by his bunk. Shades could only make out the points of light still reflected in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

A black figure materialized out of nowhere, dark, bulky, and totally silent. Strong hands grasped Shades, preventing him from fighting back. An armored forearm dung into his throat, cutting off his air and silencing him. A T-shaped visor loomed close in his blurring vision, its blue glow highlighting the familiar features of the armor. Shades stared in wide-eyed shock at the clone that was pinning him bodily to his bunk.

He didn't understand. What was happening? _This can't be right. There must be some mistake. What's going on?_

The black ops commando pressed a hypo to his neck, injecting him with something. Shades fought against the pull of narcotic induced sleep, but it was too strong. The drug was already taking control of his body, shutting him down from the inside out. The last thing he saw was that dark, emotionless helmet hovering over him, and, in the background, Wiley, his eyes reflecting an odd mixture of remorse and triumph.

_What's happening?_

Then darkness descended, and reality fell away.

* * *

><p>Everything came back slowly. He was aware of a sensation like static electricity running across his skin. His eyes felt dry and gritty, and his nose itched. But when he tried to move his hand to scratch it, nothing happened. Shades furrowed his brow in confusion and tried again, yanking harder. It was only after several seconds of fruitless effort that he realized that both his arms were stretched out above his head. Then he realized that he wasn't lying down, but floating in an upright position. Finally, he forced his eyes opened.<p>

Shades hung in a column of glowing blue energy, shackles attached to his wrists and ankles holding his suspended. Besides his prison, the only other thing in the room was an uncomfortable looking metal chair. The walls were bare of adornment. Every surface had a complete absence of dust. The lights lit the room with an industrial harshness, and the walls and floor absorbed it greedily, giving back only a sullen gleam. This room was a shrine to coldhearted efficiency.

Shades shook his head, trying to clear it of the last lingering effects of the drugs. If he was going to get out of here, he had to be able to think strait.

But his mind was reeling with confusion, a hurricane of questions pounding the insides of his skull.

_What's happening? Why am I here? Was I arrested for treason? What did I do? Why wasn't I shot? Are they going to question me?_

But no matter how urgent or important those questions were, another though crashed its way through to the front of his mind, howling with anger and disbelief.

_A clone did this. A commando, not a trooper, but I still thought we were brothers. How could he do this to me? And what does Wiley have to do with it?_

_ I don't understand._

No answers came to him. Shades hung there for what felt like hours, unable to do anything but think.

The door slid open silently, and a clone wearing armor with a lieutenant's markings on it. He just stood in front of Shades and stared, ignoring the chair.

Shades's brow furrowed in confusion. There was something familiar about the man, but he was sure that he didn't know any of the lieutenants in the 501st. then the man reached up and pulled off his helmet. Shades stared in disbelief and confusion at Wiley's face.

_Wait, Wiley's not a lieutenant. When did he get promoted? Why is he here? What's going on?_

Shades was getting tired of not having any answers.

Wiley settled down in the chair and rested his chin in his hands, contemplating his words before speaking. Shades waited, body tense.

"Lord Vader wants to know where they are."

Okay…that wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

Wiley sneered at him. "Don't play games with me, Shades. Lord Vader knows that you have information that he wants. You might as well spare yourself unnecessary pain and tell me what he wants to know. Where are they?"

Shades was truly dumbfounded. He couldn't make heads or tails of what Wiley was saying, and the other clone's superior attitude was really starting to bug him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, not bothering to reign in his frustration.

The sneer slid off Wiley's face to be replaced by a scowl. "Stop playing stupid," he barked, his body straitening from its relaxed position in the chair. "We know you're a Force-user sympathizer. You knew Fib was one and you didn't report it. You're a traitor to the Empire. You know where the rouge Jedi are, don't you? I bet you helped them escape. You betrayed your brothers and Lord Vader's trust. So, where are they?"

Shades's mind spun. There were Jedi who'd escaped the purge? How? Where were they? What were the going to do, overthrow the Empire?

_Wait…how does he know about Fib?_

Shades stared at Wiley in growing understanding and alarm. _He was there when Fib healed Noble. He saw him use the Force._ And now Shades was imprisoned for treason and Wiley was a lieutenant. As everything began to come together in the sergeant's mind, something cold oozed down his spine and settled in his stomach.

"Where's Fib?"

Wiley's eyes flickered, and he looked away for an instant. Shades could see betrayal, regret, and satisfaction all mixed up inside the other clone, forming a knot so dense that no light could get through. When Wiley looked back at him, however, only grim resolve and a perverse pride remained.

"I did the right thing. I reported him to Lord Vader. He was apprehended last night at the same time as you." His eyes dulled slightly. "I wish…I wish you didn't have to get involved in this. I like you; you're a good man. But I had no choice. I did my duty. I proved to Lord Vader that I'm loyal, and he rewarded me." Wiley's fingers traced over the new markings on his armor. "I'm not ashamed."

Cold knotted in Shades's stomach. He felt sick. What was loyalty worth, really? Wiley had sold out his brother for a pat on the head from Vader. He'd utterly destroyed the foundation that every clone's life was built on: total trust in your brothers.

"What about Noble?" Shades asked quietly.

Wiley's eyes darkened, and he lowered his chin almost threateningly. "He's not involved in this. He doesn't know anything, so Lord Vader won't pay him any mind."

He glared at Shades, suddenly fierce. "I didn't do this for myself, you know. I did it because it was the right thing to do, but I also did it for him. Now Lord Vader will never doubt my resolve, and he won't even think about questioning my friends' loyalty. And now that I have actual rank, I can really do something for him instead of watching all these incompetent mongrel officers make decisions that could get him killed. I can take care of him now." Wiley nodded to himself absently, like he was convincing himself, not Shades.

Shades just shook his head. No matter what Wiley said, he couldn't comprehend what thoughts the man's twisted mind had come up with in order to rationalize his betrayal of two of his brothers. If Noble ever found out about this, he would be devastated. It would break him, the knowledge of what Wiley was willing to do to keep him safe.

And yet, Shades couldn't find it in himself to hate Wiley for what he'd done. All he could feel was horrified pity. In the end, this was Vader's doing. Vader, the Emperor, and the Empire; all were responsible for creating a world that drove one brother to betray another out of patriotism and fear. They were to blame.

But what about Fib? What had happened to him?

"What are they doing with Fib?"

Wiley hesitated, some of his resolve crumbling as his shoulders drooped. Then he straightened his back, and, as Shades watched, he killed the last vestiges of guilt and uncertainty inside himself and hardened his heart.

"He was executed for treason."

Shades's entire body jerked as though he'd been electrified. He stiffened in his restraints and glared daggers at the other clone. "You're lying. I don't believe you. _It's not true!_"

Wiley regarded him stonily. "Lord Vader told me himself. He was put down by lethal injection two hours ago. Force-users are too dangerous to be kept alive; it's the Empire's policy to kill them as soon as they're captured."

"No…you're wrong…"

Shades couldn't even hear his own voice over the quiet _buz_z of the containment field. Words and phrases ran through his head, spinning in a dizzying whirl.

_Executed for treason… put down… lethal injection… two hours ago… too dangerous to be kept alive… Lord Vader told me himself…_

_No… no…_

There was an inferno inside of him, burning him alive. His vision had become a crimson smear, leaving everything blotted and distorted. His bones had burst into flames and were crumbling, turning into ash. He was dying… he was dying… Fib was gone.

Shades was finished.

He hung limply in the containment field, not noticing when Wiley left the room and two magna guards entered to take him away. When they released the containment field, he crashed to the ground, not bothering to break his fall. The droids hauled him up between them and carried him out of the room and into a lift that began to descend. They went down… down… down.

Shades didn't care anymore. He was finished.

They exited the lift and entered a huge room with level upon level of cells. The place was filled with piteous cries and moans of beings caught in an endless nightmare that they would never wake from. This underground compound had been constructed specifically to hold the enemies of the Empire.

Most of the cells were full.

The magna guards climbed up seven levels before stopping outside one cell. The walls were made of cold, bare metal, while the floor and ceiling were made of grating so that the prisoner inside could see into the cells above and below him. A hazy orange force field blocked the entrance, but it fizzled out when one of the droids entered the access code. They threw Shades inside and the shield sprang back to life.

Shades's face scraped across the rough grating, but he didn't react, not even when the sharp metal tore the skin of his cheek and blood spilled out. His eyes wandered slowly around the room, seeing everything… taking in nothing.

He didn't care what happened anymore. Fib was gone, and he wanted to die.

But he wouldn't get his wish. The Empire still thought he knew where the last surviving Jedi were. They'd keep him alive until they'd gotten the answers they wanted from him. But he didn't have any answers.

Shades's eyes fluttered closed in despair.

Something touched him, poking at him through the grate work, poking his injured cheek. Shades shifted his face away. The poking persisted, became a sharp prodding. Shades growled quietly in frustration. Why wouldn't the idiot beneath him leave him alone?

"Bug off," he muttered.

"Bug off yourself," snapped a familiar voice. "Get up, you idiot. Are you alright?"

Shades's eyes opened slowly. He stared down at a bright shock of red hair framing a worried face that stared up at him through the grate.

_That's it_, he thought. _I've lost my mind. Gone insane with grief. Now I'm hallucinating._

The face beneath him crumpled into a scowl. "I am _not_ a hallucination." Then the finger that had been poking him dug viciously into the gash in his cheek.

Red hot pain flared and Shades bolted upright, yowling in protest. He slapped a hand to his cheek and felt his own slick blood cover his fingers. The man beneath him flinched in empathy.

"Sorry."

Shades stared at him, the pain in his cheek forgotten as he finally registered what he was seeing. Fib was shirtless, dressed only in his long gray sleep pants. There were bruises on his biceps and chest and one on his cheek. His eyes were tired and a little too bright, and there was a strange metal collar fastened tightly around his neck.

"You're alive."

Fib scowled. "Of course I'm alive. I think I'd know if I was dead, being a medic and all."

"But Wiley said—"

"Wiley lied."

"But he said that Vader told him—"

"Then Vader lied to him. Honestly, Shades, think for a second. What reason in the galaxy would Vader have to tell Wiley the truth? He probably told him I was dead to keep him from sticking his nose into it."

What Fib was saying made sense, but Shades's beleaguered brain just couldn't keep up. Suddenly it was all too much: the grief at losing Fib; the overwhelming relief that he was really alive; the anger at Wiley's betrayal; the bewilderment at the whole situation.

Shades's exhausted body crumpled in on itself, and he pressed himself flat against the grate. He shoved his fingers as far as they would go through the holes, not caring that the metal scratched them. Beneath him, Fib stretched up to meet him. He had to stand on his toes and strain a little, but his fingers found the grate and, after a moment of fumbling, touched Shades's.

The sergeant didn't feel the familiar warmth of Force healing taking away his physical pain and mending his cheek. He realized distantly that the collar the medic was wearing must suppress the Force somehow. All he could feel was the ordinary warmth of Fib's fingers.

But it was enough. It would always be enough. As long as he had this, he could continue to live, no matter what happened to him. It was all he needed.

A random memory came to him then. He and Edi had been talking. He couldn't remember what had started the conversation, but it had somehow come around to the subject of attachment.

"It's not love that the Jedi fear," Edi had said. "Not precisely. It's attachment; selfish love, if you will. When your need for someone or something is so great that you put it before everything else. When you refuse to let them go, even when it's their time. That is what Jedi fear leads to the Dark Side."

_So this is attachment_, Shades thought. _This is what Jedi fear? The need to be something greater than just yourself? Well, I wonder if I'm turning to the Dark Side._

He laughed a little to himself. As though it mattered. He was already in too deep. He'd invested too much of himself in Fib to simply withdraw to a safe, detached distance. It was too late for him to go back.

Besides, he didn't want to.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>In the dark, sound became clearer. Without the distraction of sight—so many different shapes and colors to focus on—sound came to the forefront of the brain's awareness and sharpened to an almost painful clarity.<p>

Shades pressed his eyes closed as hard as he could, then opened them. There was no difference. He could see nothing, only the small bursts of light and color that the brain produced for the eyes to see in total darkness. Even the glow of the orange force fields covering the cell doors was gone, dampened down to nonexistence for the night. Shades had no idea if it was actually night outside, or how many days had passed since he'd been arrested for treason and thrown into this cell. All he knew was that six cycles of lights-out had passed, and each felt like an eternity.

But even though this was supposed to be a sleep cycle, the _sounds_ persisted. Moans, groans, inarticulate wails, and garbled screams bubbled out of the dark and crawled through Shades's mind, chasing away sleep until he simply passed out from exhaustion.

_What happens when you depend on another being for something, for shelter, guidance, or companionship? What happens when another becomes a fixture in your life? What happens when they become important—no, _necessary_—for your happiness? What happens when you become _attached_ to another being?_

The food was discussing, grayish-blue gruel that churned sloppily in Shades stomach when he forced it down. But he had to eat something, and it was all the prisoners got.

_This is the teaching of the Jedi: you cannot rely on another being for completeness. They will fail you. They may lie to you. They may cheat you and steal from you. They may forget you. They may arrive too early or too late. They may hurt you through intention or simply through absentmindedness. But in the end, the result is the same; they will fail you, and you will be left behind. _

The questions started after fourteen sleep cycles. The same magna guards that had put Shades in the cell dragged him out and took him to a room that looked a lot like the one Wiley had questioned him in. They fastened him into the containment field and left. Not long after, an Imperial officer and an interrogation droid entered.

Shades didn't like the superior sneer on the officer's face, like he thought being a randomly conceived being made him superior to a clone. _Come a little closer, meat sack, and I'll show you what _superior_ looks like_. But the look of the interrogation droid sent shivers down his spine and made the fire of indignation die in his stomach. It was a small, black spheroid with randomly blinking white lights on its surface and a lethal looking needle protruding from its front. The needle was pointing right at him.

The sound proofed door locked behind them.

_So, what happens when another person becomes so integral to your existence that you as you are couldn't exist without them?_

Shades's body ached. The scorch marks on his ribs burned. His torn muscles cried with every movement. His stomach groaned from lack of food, and his head throbbed from too little sleep.

He needed food. He needed rest. He needed a break from the endless cycles of interrogation. But no matter how badly he hurt physically, Shades's heart ached even more with worry for his brother.

Fib wasn't eating. Shades had managed to coax him into forcing down the disgusting substance that passed for food here the first few days, but now he refused to eat anything. Fib had never been fat—no clone was—but now Shades could easily see the outline of the medic's ribs against his bruised, pale skin.

_When they are gone…what is left of you?_

The longer they were in this Force-forsaken prison, the less responsive Fib became. He barely slept at all now, just sat huddled in a corner, his eyes hot and feverish as he stared at nothing. Shades tried to talk to him, and sometimes he answered, but most of the time he didn't even seem to hear.

Shades could only imagine the feelings this place must be radiating to Fib through the Force: horror, pain, despair, insanity. Whatever the medic was feeling, Shades could plainly see that it was killing him.

_Who am I kidding? I'm not doing so hot either. Neither of us is going to last much longer like this. But what do we do? What can we do?_

His eyes wandered vaguely around the large prison space, not looking for anything in particular. Movement a few levels up caught Shades's attention. The magna guards were making their rounds, as predictable as a Toydarian's lie. Memories of the few missions that had pitched Renegade Company against similar droids surfaced sluggishly in Shades's tired mind.

Suddenly, something clicked into place.

Shades sat up so fast that his bruised and torn muscles screamed in protest. His body was weak from lack of sleep, improper nourishment, and almost continuous cycles of physical abuse, and he had to lean back against the wall as his vision blurred and grayed alarmingly. But none of that mattered.

He had a plan.

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long delay. I've been studdying for finals. Hopefully this chapter will make up for the length of the previous one.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>If there was one thing that a clone knew better than his own face, it was droids. He had been trained intensively on Kamino for ten years to fight them, and then in the war he'd been pitted against nearly uncountable varieties of droids in battle after battle. A clone knew nearly every droid's special particulars. He knew their arc of fire, their sensor range, how quickly their electronic brains processed information. He knew how much detonite it took to reduce them to shrapnel, whether or not they were susceptible to an EPM. A clone knew the strength of a droid's joints and where its armored casing didn't quite cover the underlying circuitry.<p>

A clone knew how to take a droid down from the inside out.

During the war, Shades had always made a point of keeping up to date on all the latest changes and developments of various droid models, particularly those used by the Separatists. It wasn't that he enjoyed reading spreadsheets of numbers and statistics—he usually had to struggle to stay awake—but you never knew when something small, like the fact that a commando droid's photoreceptors had a tendency to come loose in their sockets, might come in handy. Shades never took for granted that he knew all that was worth knowing when it came to an enemy. The more you knew, the more you had to exploit.

As it just so happened, about two years into the war, Shades had come across a rather dry report over the grades of metal that a certain company was using to manufacture its products, among them droids. The report had mentioned how the company had switched to using a lower grade metal when manufacturing joint pins and turbo thruster connectors to cut back on production costs. Shades would have skimmed over the report and dismissed it as uninteresting and relatively useless if he hadn't noticed one crucial detail. In the list of product numbers that were affected by this decision was KA1337H4-ZED; the product number for magna guards. And as fortune—or the Force—would have it, Renegade Company had faced those droids not two months later on Commenor.

Magna guards were brutally efficient fighters with a frightening ability to improvise at the drop of a helmet. Things hadn't been going well, and Thorn had ordered everyone to fall back. Lieutenant Shmolt, who'd been taking cover in a den-like warren under a large fallen tree, had leapt to obey the order (as usual). However, one magna guard had been a lot closer to the lieutenant's hiding place than either he or the droid had guessed. Upon erupting out of the hole, Shmolt's helmet had connected with the droid's knee joint with substantial force. The stunned lieutenant had collapsed to the ground at the same time that the magna guard's knee had given out and snapped. To this day, Shades was certain that that droid had been more shocked than anyone else there.

_If it worked once_, Shades thought ruefully, _it should work again_.

What he had in his head couldn't really be called a plan; more like the beginnings of one, but it was all he had. He and Fib didn't have the luxury of time to come up with an amazingly complex and foolproof strategy. Their time was running out. _We just need to get out of these cells. Once we're free, we can find a way out of this hellhole and off planet._

Realistically, Shades knew that this plan had very little chance of actually working. He and Fib were both in poor physical condition. They didn't have any armor or weapons. They didn't even really know how to get out of the prison once they were free of their cells. But he couldn't let himself think of that. He had to concentrate on the present, not on future possibilities, or he'd break under the sheer weight of what-ifs.

_Just like training. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Concentrate on breathing and rejoice in every heartbeat, because each one means the possibility of one more._

Shades glanced down through the grated floor into the cell below. Fib was huddled in the same corner that he'd been in for the last six hours. The only thing that had changed was that his eyes were shut. Maybe he was finally getting some sleep. Shades toyed with the idea of telling his brother about his plan, but finally decided against it. In the condition that he was in right now, there wasn't much that the medic would be able to do, especially with that Force suppressing collar on. No, Shades wouldn't tell him, not yet. Fib needed all the rest he could get. Shades would let him sleep and take care of getting them out on his own. He needed to be the strong one now, until his brother was well again.

Crawling over to the cell's entrance, Shades scanned the levels, looking for the magna guards. They were still five levels up, making their way slowly along as they stopped by each cell and delivered the day's meal. _I've still got some time._

Once they lowered the force field, he'd have to move quickly. Shades was certain that he could take the first one out, but the second one would be expecting an attack, and ready for it. _I'll just have to be quicker. If I can get it inside the cell, I can use the smaller space to my advantage._

Letting out a painful breath, Shades shuffled sideways and settled himself in the corner closest to the force field, out of the droids' immediate line of sight. His head fell back lightly against the wall, and, eyes closed, he ran through the plan carefully, movement by movement, until his muscles twitched with the memory of actions they had yet to perform. It was a ritual that Shades had developed during his earliest training on Kamino. By envisioning precisely what he would do in any given situation, the clone sergeant felt prepared for whatever might happen. It was his version of Jedi meditation.

Opening his eyes, Shades gazed up at the grated ceiling. His breathing and heart rate had both calmed. His body thrummed in readiness for action, but his mind was at ease and his muscles relaxed. He'd "found his center" as Edi would say. In the quiet and peace of that moment, Shades felt a certainty that he hadn't felt for a very long time, and it left him elated. They were going to make it out. He _knew_ it.

The clomp of metal on metal announced the magna guards' arrival outside the clone's cell. Shades forced himself to relax and closed his eyes to bare slits so, to the droids at least, he appeared to be sleeping. The soft thrum of the force field died as the droids deactivated it. There was a pause.

_Come on, clanker. Come inside like a good little droid so I can turn you into scrap metal._

Through the narrow slits of his partially closed eyes, Shades saw the lower legs of one of the magna guards as the droid stepped into the prison cell to locate the prisoner that it hadn't immediately spotted.

Shades moved in a violent surge. His muscles shrieked in outrage, everything flared with a white hot pain that threatened to send him tumbling into unconsciousness, then it was all forgotten in the frantic rush to get out alive. Shades's reflexes were superb, honed from years of training and combat. Even in his weakened state his leg moved with near blinding speed. The hard ball of his foot made contact with the droid's knee, and the weak joint snapped. Before the magna guard had time to regain its balance, or even utter a shrill squeal of rage, the clone had ahold of its electrostaff and drove the weapon through its left photoreceptor and into its electronic brain.

Something hard slammed into Shades's back, sending him tumbling to the floor. He rolled before his head had time to clear, acting on blind instinct. _Keep moving, _was the only thought that ran through his head. _Have to keep moving. If I stop, I'm dead_. Heat seared past his right cheek, and then he was on his back, facing the other magna guard that loomed above him. The droid's electrostaff was planted in the floor next to his face. Only his quick roll had kept the electric weapon from spearing him through the head. But there was nowhere to roll now. Shades was trapped on his back, his enemy above him, preparing for the final blow. If it was possible, the magna guard almost looked smug as it raised its staff and drove it into the helpless clone's head.

Or attempted to. When the guard had struck at Shades the first time, the electrostaff had hit the metal grating of the floor with considerable force. Now the weapon was stuck in the slats. With all the desperate strength he could muster, Shades drove his own electrostaff into the droid's chest plate. The armor was too strong for the staff to pierce it—it was only dented—but the force of the blow was enough to send the droid staggering back a step. That was all that Shades needed. Never letting go of his electrostaff, the sergeant scrambled to his feet and repeated the same action that had been so effective with the first droid. The magna guard emitted a dying warble before collapsing at his feet.

Now the only sounds in the room were Shades's ragged, wheezing pants. Even the prisoners in the adjoining cells had fallen silent. Shades gulped down a few lung fulls of air, wincing as the cool gas rushed through his parched throat. He shifted his shoulders, absently pulling his loose, grubby sleep shirt back into position, then turned and hurried out of his cell and towards the nearest lift, which took him down a level. Once there, it was only a matter of seconds before he was in front of Fib's cell and fumbling at the control pad to lower the force field. The orange barrier thinned and vanished. Shades stepped inside, then staggered, struggling to hold up the medic that had just lurched into him.

"Insane," Fib whispered, his lips centimeters from his brother's ear. The other clone's voice was hoarse and shaky, weak from days of disuse, but Shades's couldn't think of a more beautiful sound in that moment. The warm weight of Fib's physical presence made him almost lightheaded with happiness. The sheer relief at finally having physical contact with his brother almost undid Shades. The few brief touches of fingertips through the grate hadn't been nearly enough. Only the knowledge that they might be discovered at any minute kept his mind focused.

"Wait here," he said, reluctantly settling the other man to the floor. "I'll be right back."

Shades hurried back to his own cell and retrieved the electrostaff that he'd killed the droids with. Returning to the other cell, he crouched down next to Fib and eyed the collar he was wearing. The medic gave him a suspicious look.

"What are you thinking?"

"We have to get that collar off you," Shades muttered. "If I stick the tip of the electrostaff in the access port, the charge should be enough to override the collar and unlock."

Fib rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. Or it could just short circuit my brain. No biggy." He was cut off abruptly by a hoarse, wrenching cough that soon had him doubled over, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.

Concerned, Shades pressed his hands to his brother's shoulder to provide support. He wished there was something he could do, but he wasn't a healer, or even a medic. He could only wait for the coughing fit to pass.

After a few minutes, Fib pushed himself upright. He took a few shallow breaths, coughed once, then sighed. "I'm okay. Just a cough. We might as well go on with your idiot plan, because I haven't got a better idea."

Shades gave him a forced smile. "Who are you calling an idiot?" he asked, voice deliberately light to hide how badly he was shaking inside. Fib was right, this was an insane plan, but what else could they do? If they were going to have any chance of getting out, Fib needed to be able to use the Force. It was the only advantage they were going to get.

Shades braced his arm on his knee and raised the point of the electrostaff, aiming carefully at the small hole on the front of Fib's collar. The medic craned his head back to give him an unobstructed view. Shades's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and then, as carefully as possible, he placed the point of the staff into the access port. There was an electrical crackling, then a snap-hiss that sounded almost like a lightsaber. Shades yanked the staff back just as Fib emitted a sharp yelp and the collar fell to the ground, smoking. The medic rubbed at his neck, eyeing the collar warily, then glanced up at Shades.

"It actually worked." He sounded amazed.

The clone sergeant let out a shaky laugh. He actually couldn't believe it himself. It _had_ worked.

At that moment, everything came crashing back down on Shades. With the ebb of adrenaline from his system every torn muscle, bruised bone, and burned patch of skin woke up. He couldn't suppress a moan as pain flooded his system and caused him to sway where he was crouched. Through pain-blurred vision, he saw Fib's face move close, his concern evident. Then warm hands were pressed to his cheeks and then pain that had overwhelmed him eased before finally vanishing. Shades sighed in relief.

The hands were abruptly gone from his face. Fib swayed, then flopped sideways and sagged against the wall. He was breathing heavily and there was sweat on his face and chest. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't heal it…just…make it feel better."

Shades stared at the guy in disbelieving anger. "You moron," he hissed. "Don't go draining yourself for me. I'm fine; it's only a little pain. Come on, we've got to go." Before Fib could protest, Shades slid an arm around his brother's lower back and hauled them both into a standing position. Once there, he pulled Fib's left arm over his shoulders and started out the door. "Moronic, Force-using idiot," he muttered under his breath.

The moronic, Force-using idiot in question chuckled in response.

They made painfully slow progress down the walkway. The prison compound was a giant cube, with level upon level of cells stretching in both directions. The walkways ran the perimeter of the huge room, and Fib's and Shades's goal—the main lift—was on the far side. At any minute Shades expected to be shot by a sniper droid hiding somewhere on one of the other levels. But they made it safely to the lift and inside.

They rode down six levels—Shades remembered at least that much from when he'd been brought here—and stepped out into a bare, dimly lit hall that stretched off in both directions. After looking both ways, Shades had to admit defeat. He didn't remember which way to go. He glanced over at Fib. "A Force hint would be useful right about now," he prompted.

The clone medic let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. After an uncomfortably long time they opened again. "Right."

They went right.

The next half hour passed like this. The two clones made their slow way down hall after hall, guided by the Force. Shades was amazed at how deserted the place was. He'd expected to run into at least one droid by now, but they hadn't. Not that he was complaining, mind you.

Eventually, though, they needed to stop and rest. Fib was sagging against Shades, barely able to stay upright. The sergeant wasn't doing so well himself. His vision was blurred with weariness, and the muscles in his legs and back ached from supporting his brother's weight.

Finally giving in to exhaustion, Shades lowered Fib to the ground and dropped down next to him, leaning on the wall for support. He fully intended to stay awake and keep watch while the other slept, but his body had other ideas. Darkness swallowed him.

Shades awoke to Fib's hoarse shout and the sound of an electronic voice saying, "You're under arrest."

The clone sergeant reacted before his eyes had even opened. His bare foot shot out, connecting with the blaster in the battle droid's hands. The gun clattered to the ground not far from Shades, who lunged for it. Still on the ground, he fired pointblank at the droid directly above him before turning his attention to the other six. Battle droids were stupid compared to magna guards. The others were still telling him to drop his weapon as he opened fire on them. Shades snatched a blaster from one of the downed droids and tossed it in Fib's direction. The medic, standing braced against the wall, caught the weapon and let loose with deadly accuracy. Shades was vaguely aware of what sounded like running feet in the background, but he was too focused on the droids in front of him to pay it any mind.

A crippling blow to the back of his head made him wish he'd done otherwise. Stunned, he tried to turn and face his attacker, but then another blow to his collarbone sent him to his knees. Shades looked up to see a magna guard standing over him. The droid almost seemed to leer at him before it smashed its electrostaff against his side.

Shades screamed as electricity coursed through him. His body shook with it, jittering and convulsing. A blood vessel popped in his left eye, smearing his vision. His teeth bit through his tongue and blood filled his mouth. His vision turned red, then white as the pain increased beyond anything he'd ever felt. It was like the marrow in his bones had turned to acid and was eating him from the inside out. Then as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped.

Shades's vision slowly returned. He was lying on his side, his face resting in a puddle of blood that had dribbled out of his own mouth. Several meters down the hall, he saw the smoking remains of the magna guard. The droid looked like it had stepped on a landmine. For the life of him Shades couldn't figure out what had happened.

Then he tried to breathe, and his chest caught fire. He gasped, then choked on the blood still in his mouth. His vision was spinning again, and he knew he was about to faint.

Hands, hot against his burned skin, pressed to his side. The fiery pain in his chest eased, then vanished. Shades felt a sensation like hundreds of tiny insects crawling across his skin where the hands pressed against him, followed by the same sensation on his tongue. The vision in his left eye cleared. Then the pain disappeared entirely, save for a few muscle aches.

He took a slow, deep breath, then opened his eyes and sat up just in time to see Fib collapse. Shades cursed and scrambled to the other man's side. The clone medic was shaking badly, his eyes half lidded and his breathing shallow. Shades pulled Fib into his lap. Well, everything made sense _now_. The idiot had somehow blown up the magna guard with the Force before nearly draining himself to heal Shades.

"Idiot," the sergeant whispered into his brother's hair, even as the other slowly stopped shaking. After a moment, Fib's eyes opened.

"You okay?" he mumbled.

Shades was tempted to snap back a reply, but he really didn't feel like fighting at the moment. They needed to get out as quickly as possible so he settled for answering, "Fine." He once again pulled them both to their feet and, supporting Fib, made his way down the hall.

Soon enough Fib was able to support some of his weight. Shades wasn't sure if he was drawing on the Force for strength, or if his stubborn streak refused to allow himself to be carried. Either way, they made quicker progress down the hall to a lift at the end.

"Up," Fib panted. "We need to go up."

Up. Up to the surface. Up out of this wretched prison and into the open air, where beings walked freely, without restraint. Shades's spirits lifted as the lift rose. _We're almost there. We're almost out. We're almost free._

A loud clank announced their arrival. Shades braced as the doors opened, fully expecting a contingent of droids to be on the other side. But the room was empty, bear even of furniture. There was only a solid looking door directly opposite the lift. Fib pointed a shaking finger. "There."

Excitement surged through Shades as the two clones hurried across the room to the door. There were no electronic locks, only an old fashioned bolt. With some effort Shades shoved it back. Then, with Fib's help, he slowly pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted them was one of a large expanse of metal planes under a smog-filled sky. The prison compound was obviously located in one of Coruscant's abandoned industrial districts. No need to worry about random citizens stumbling upon the prison out here.

"Okay," said Shades. "First objective: get out of sight. Second objective: get transport and get off planet."

"And where exactly are you planning to go?"

Shades glanced over at his brother. "Anywhere that's not here. I really don't care, not as long as you come." There'd been a time when Shades would have turned red with embarrassment at such a statement, but that time was long past. Keeping up pretenses didn't seem nearly as important as it once had.

Silence greeted his frank statement. Checking on his friend, Shades saw that the guy seemed to be fighting back tears.

"Corny," Fib muttered. His voice sounded watery. "Yeah, okay, fine. I, uh…that works for me, too. I guess."

The clone sergeant snorted in amusement and tugged his brother quickly down the walkway. They needed to get under cover and work out what to do next. But even with everything they still had to do, all the obstacles they had yet to face, Shades knew they'd make it. He couldn't explain how he knew, but he did. He'd never been more certain of anything.

Fib dropped without warning, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"Fierfek," Shades muttered, dropping with him. "Fib, you okay?"

The stun bolt hit him in the lower chest, causing his abdominal muscles to spasm, then everything went black.

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><p><strong>As always, please review and let me know what you think.<strong>

**mad'ika**


	10. Chapter 10

**Merry belated Christmas. The story's finally done. I hope yu enjoyed.**

**I do not own Star Wars.**

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><p>Shades woke up all at once, a sensation similar to falling out of bed. He jerked up from the hard floor he was lying on, and for one beautiful deceptive moment, he actually thought that he was back in his bunkroom on the <em>Starlight<em> and everything had been some horrible, twisted dream, but still a dream. Then his mind finally registered his surroundings and anger and grief crashed down so strongly that his legs would have buckled if he'd been standing Edi was dead. His brothers were gone. He and Fib had been captured.

It wasn't fair. He and Fib had pushed beyond all their previous limits, had discovered hidden reserves that they didn't know they had, but it hadn't been enough. When you gave something your all everything was supposed to be okay. Didn't good always win? That was what everyone said. But the problem with that was that people often had very different ideas about what _good_ was. Someone had to lose, and right now, Fib and Shades were that someone.

_But a battle can change in a matter of seconds. The smallest thing can make the biggest difference._

Shoving away his growing despair, Shades forced himself to take a good look at the room that he and Fib were trapped in. It wasn't large, maybe ten meters across, with bare walls and no windows. There was only one light source, a hazy yellow glow strip that had seen better days. Its wavering glow cast a small pool of light around where he and Fib lay on the floor. The rest of the room was veiled in gloom, the farthest corners lost in shadows.

Fib lay close to the sergeant, curled on his side. For a second Shades thought that he was still unconscious, but then one of the medic's eyes cracked open and looked at him.

"Took you long enough to wake up, sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

Shades could only shake his head at the guy's completely unrepentant sarcastic streak. A smile tugged at his mouth. Even in this dire situation, Fib could still make a joke; it was heartening.

He crawled over to his friend. "I couldn't help noticing that you could do with a little more sleep." The comment was only partially joking. Fib still looked ashen, with dark circles under his eyes, his face drawn and tight with pain, stress, and fatigue. But at least he was awake and lucid. Thank the Force for small blessings.

Fib sat up slowly, his arms shaking with the effort, and ended up leaning against Shades for support. He held up his arms in front of him, then touched his neck. "You notice that we're not restrained?"

Shades had noticed the rather conspicuous lack of electro cuffs. Fib wasn't even wearing a Force-suppressing collar. Obviously whoever had captured them didn't think very highly of their chances of escape.

_Well, their loss_, Shades thought stubbornly, refusing to give in to the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Fib stiffened against him an instant before he heard the soft mechanical hiss of an unseen door opening. The sound was followed by light footsteps, something swishing quietly in time with them. Whoever had come in wasn't wearing armor. It sounded like this being wore only soft shoes and robes for protection.

Shades shivered as a sudden chill filled the air. The shadows beyond the small light seemed to grow impossibly darker. Fib trembled against his side, but then he pushed himself up straighter, until he was sitting on his own. A fierce light had come into his eyes, something Shades had never seen before, not even in battle. The medic was staring into the darkest shadows of the room. Shades turned to look.

A form stood there. It was cloaked in black robes that enveloped it, hiding its shape, though it appeared humanoid. A dark hood was drawn low over its face, hiding everything but a thin-lipped mouth surrounded by wrinkles. The mouth was curved up at the corners in a bone-chilling parody of a smile. Shades was so rattled by the sudden appearance that it took him a second to recognize Emperor Palpatine.

_The Emperor? What's he doing here?_

The smirk grew as the man stepped closer to the light. Now more of his face was visible under his hood. His skin was bone white, the feature distorted in wrinkles. It looked like the Emperor had stood too close to a fusion reactor and his skin had started to melt. But even then, his eyes were clearly visible. They were yellow and lit with a feral gleam that made Shades want to shrink away and cower in a corner. They were a demon's eyes.

"My friends," said the Emperor in a soft, cracked voice, like a bat's leathery wings unfurling. "How nice to finally meet you. Particularly you, my young medic. I've been waiting for you to find me."

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><p>Darth Sidious allowed a smile to curve his lips at the sight of the two clones on the ground before him. It was only right that they kneel, even if they had no choice.<p>

Ever since Lord Vader had informed him of the medic's presence and abilities, he had been almost giddy with anticipation. A healing adept was a _very_ useful tool to have at one's disposal. A true gift from the dark side, and delivered right into his lap. He had set his plan in motion and had waited patiently for the inevitable outcome. He knew the medic would not stay long in the prison, though he was rather surprised at the presence of the other clone Ah, yes, Vader had wanted to keep that one, saying something about possible locations of the few surviving Jedi. Sidious very much doubted that the clone knew anything of value, but he humored his apprentice. And now here they were, at last.

It would have been much simpler to force the medic to serve him, perhaps through mind control, or some other means. But Lord Vader had been quick to point out this particular clone's stubbornness. The medic had served under Skywalker for a time, and Vader had grudgingly admitted his doubt that mind tricks would work on the man. He was strong-willed, for a clone.

_"He will have to be broken, my Master, before he will be of any use to us."_

It made sense. And it was much more gratifying to have a powerful tool choose to serve him of its own volition rather than through coercion. His own apprentice was a testament to that.

Now Sidious stood at the threshold of his final victory, and it was _good_. Fear and pain emanated from the two clones in the Force, sending a delighted shiver down the dark lord's spine. And yet, for all that, the medic still gave off a fierce feeling of defiance as though he was deliberately projecting it. It mattered little. He would break in the end. He was, after all, only a clone.

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><p>It became quickly clear to Shades that the Emperor had little interest in him. After the first perfunctory statement of greeting, Palpatine's entire attention was focused on Fib.<p>

Shades was having trouble understanding exactly what the Emperor was talking to Fib for, but the more he listened, the more obvious it became that he was trying to entice the medic into his service. _But I don't get it. We're clones. Why doesn't he just give an order?_ Another thing was bothering Shades. Wasn't the Empire supposedly anti-Force-user? So what was the Emperor doing trying to recruit one? Nothing about this was adding up, and the longer it went on, the greater Shades's sense of dread grew.

"There are many things that I can offer you, if you serve me," Palpatine was saying.

"Right," said Fib. He'd pushed himself into a standing position near the beginning of the discussion. He swayed slightly, but remained upright. "What makes you think that you have anything that I could want?"

Palpatine's fingers laced together within the folds of his sleeves. "Do not be so quick to dismiss my offers before you have heard them, my young friend. I think you would find some of them most…stimulating."

Fib's eyebrows quirked up. "All right. Let's hear it."

Palpatine's smile grew, and Shades went cold all over. He wanted to shout at his brother, to tell him not to listen to the man, but he couldn't seem to find his voice.

"First," the Emperor murmured, "I can give you power. When you work with me, you will find that there is little that you cannot do. Second, wealth. You are a clone, so you have little experience with material possessions, but in my service you will come to realize all the ease and comfort that comes with having access to the proper resources. And finally," and now Palpatine's smile grew even more and his eyes glinted, "freedom, for both you and your friend here." He gestured at a startled Shades. "These are my offers."

Fib stood with his head down, not saying anything. Shades could only shake his head mutely in denial. They had no reason to trust this man. He'd had them arrested and thrown in that awful jail. He was using their brothers as cannon fodder all across the galaxy. He had had the Jedi killed for treason, but had never given anyone, least of all the clones, a satisfactory reason. Edi had been killed because of him. He had _murdered_ her, and that would have been enough for Shades to happily shoot the man, but his thrice cursed fear kept him rooted to the spot, unable to do a thing.

Fib finally spoke, though he didn't raise his head. "So those are your offers? Well, first off, I'll let you know that I've never been very interested in power. In my experience, nothing good ever comes of it, and it creates more headaches than fixes. Wealth? You're right about clones not having material possessions, and to be honest, I think it's the last thing anyone needs. Such a hassle when you're trying to move quickly.

"Freedom…" Fib's voice trailed off for a second, sounding almost wistful. "You almost had me with that one. And you might be telling the truth, at least for me. But Shades? I don't think for a moment that that's a promise you'll keep once you've gotten what you want. Are those really your only offers, sir? I was hoping for a little more originality."

Palpatine was now looking distinctly less smug. Shades's mouth had fallen open in horror. What was the idiot doing? You didn't mock the Emperor like that. No one mocked the Emperor like that! Nobody but Fib, apparently.

"There is one thing, though…"

Shades's head snapped abruptly to look at Fib. The medic's shoulders were tense. There was something different in his voice. The mocking edge was gone; Fib was being completely serious now.

"I know you're strong," the other clone whispered. "There's just one thing that you can to do convince me to serve you." Fib looked up now, and there was a ferocious sadness in his eyes. "Bring my brother back. Give me Grayson, alive and whole, and I'll serve you gladly, without question."

Shades's blood ran cold. There was challenge in Fib's voice, but the sergeant knew his brother well enough to catch the undercurrent of desperate hope that ran through his words. _He's serious. If Palpatine can give him Grayson, then he really will serve him._ Shades's heart nearly broke at the thought. Fib understood better than anyone that there was no way to bring a person back from the dead, Force or no. And yet some part of him still hoped that there was a way, a way to at least see his brother one more time. A way that he could tell him everything he'd left unsaid.

Palpatine seemed to have regained his sense of control over the situation. "Very well, my young healer." There was evident glee in his voice. "I'm certain that together you and I—"

"No. You weren't listening. You give me Grayson _now_, then I serve you. I'm not interested in all the things we can 'accomplish.' Give me my brother, or you get nothing."

The smile was completely gone from Palpatine's face. Fib's lips curled up in a sneer.

"What, all out of offers? So soon? You forget, I'm a healer. I understand the limits of what the Force can accomplish over life and death, even better than you."

Palpatine's eyes glinted with a cold fire. "I do not appreciate being mocked. Especially not by a _clone_. Is that your final decision?"

"Yes."

"So be it."

Lightning, hot and white and bright in the darkness, shot from Palpatine's outstretched hand. It leapt, arcing over the distance, and struck Fib squarely in the chest. The medic was too surprised to cry out. He simply toppled backwards, clutching his chest.

A shrill shriek filled the small room. Shades lunged forward blindly, unsure if he was headed for Fib or Palpatine, but instinct and training drove him toward the threat. His brother's choked gasps drove him on, a drumbeat in his ears and chest. The Emperor gave an almost negligent flick of his hand, and Shades was hurled backwards into the wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and set his spasming chest on fire. All the bone deep aches and torn muscles woke up at once, howling with a vengeance. The pain blurred Shades's vision, and, as he struggled to breathe, an invisible weight settled on him, making movement impossible. He couldn't lift his limbs, couldn't breathe. He couldn't even blink.

Palpatine spoke, and his voice was as cold as the vacuum of space. "If you will not serve me, then you will die. But do not make the mistake of thinking that your death will be a swift one. You will suffer, and your friend will be forced to watch."

Shades could only stare, helpless and frozen, as the Emperor stretched out a gnarled had toward Fib. The medic had somehow pushed himself to his knees. Shades could see the ugly burn on his brother's chest where the lightning had struck him. He wanted to scream a warning, to tell the other man to leave him and get out while he still could, but his vocal cords were frozen and his throat sealed shut.

Fib was breathing raggedly in harsh, quick bursts. As he locked gazes with Palpatine, his own eyes widened and defocused, seeing something that wasn't in the room with them. Then came the screams.

* * *

><p>Darth Sidious sneered as the clone choked and sobbed in front of him. Occasionally he found the breath to scream out a name. "Grayson" and "Edi" were the ones most often repeated, but they were by no means the only ones. How fascinating.<p>

This was one of the Sith Lord's favorite techniques. By mentally reaching into his victim's mind, he could force them to relive all the worse memories of their life, over and over and over again to the point where it seemed to cause physical pain. The more painful the memories, the more pronounced the affect, and this clone had painful memories in abundance.

It was a pity that he didn't get to use this technique more often.

* * *

><p>Time is cruel. When every second is a living torment, time slows to a crawl, forcing you to live each moment fully, to the point where you are certain your sanity will shatter under the strain.<p>

Shades himself wasn't being tortured, not physically, but he was certain that he was about to lose his mind. Every one of his brother's screams was a rusty nail being driven into his heart until it spasmed and stuttered with each beat. If he'd been given the chance to take Fib's place, shades would have done so without a thought. But he hadn't been given a choice. He was being forced to sit by and watch as his brother was tortured right in front of him. The pain was greater than anything he'd ever felt, and it was tearing him apart.

Then, mercifully, Palpatine withdrew his hand, and Fib collapsed to his hands and knees, shaking and sobbing brokenly.

"So much pain in you," Palpatine murmured, his voice soft, almost gentle. "It's been eating at you for years, hasn't it? First on Kamino. Your fellow clones knew that there was something wrong with you, right from the start. _Freak_ they called you, and you knew they were right. Only one person thought differently, and he died for it. You as good as killed him. Your only friend, dead because of _you_, because of what you are. You tried to deny it. You lied to yourself, told yourself that it was all out of your control. You even had that audacity to make new friends. But they weren't really your friends, because you never really trusted them. You hid your true self from them, because if they knew how broken and miserable and ugly you were, they would turn away in disgust."

The Emperor let out a bark of shrill laughter. "But it changed nothing, in the end. They still died, or are as good as dead. Because of you and what you are. A _freak_." He fairly cackled with glee. "Can you feel that pain? Your brother's pain? That pain is your fault, as surely as your other friends' deaths were. In watching you suffer, he suffers more. He will watch you die, knowing that there is nothing he can do to save you, and in that knowing, he will damn you. You brought this on him when you chose to defy me."

_That's not true!_ Shades screamed mentally. _None of that's true, Fib! Don't you dare believe it for a second!_ But his brother couldn't hear him.

Lightning arced again from Palpatine' hands, striking Fib where he crouched. His initial grunts of pain turned quickly to screams of agony. Lightning raged in and about his body, wreathing him in a flickering halo of fire. The room flashed and flickered, the harsh whiteness of the lightning reaching into every corner, touching everything but the shadow that created it. Each spike of hot energy was branded on the backs of Shades's eyes. There had to be lightning inside him, too. That was the only explanation for the terrible, raw, roiling pain that was eating his heart. Fib's screams and Palpatine's maniacal laughter echoed endlessly throughout the room, creating a lurid counterpoint to the bright flashed of lightning.

Palpatine raised a clenched fist, and Fib was jerked into the air. Laughing shrilly, the Emperor sent another burst of lightning into the medic's body. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he hurled the writhing from into the far wall. At the moment of impact, lightning exploded from the clone's body, which fell heavily to the ground. Fib didn't even scream.

Now Palpatine's laughter was the only sound in the room. He folded his hands inside his robes, and at the same time, the inexorable weight that had been pinning Shades was lifted. He scrambled forward on his hands and knees, pain completely forgotten. His own pain didn't even exist anymore as Shades finally pulled Fib's burned body into his trembling arms.

"Fib," he whispered, not even hearing his own voice. The only sounds that seemed real anymore were the other clone's weak, gasping breaths. Everything else had faded to white noise that meant nothing. The world was falling apart around him, and the only thing that was tangible anymore was the trembling body in his arms. _This can't be happening_ part of Shades thought numbly, while another part was screaming and raging that _everyone_ would pay for this, and he didn't know which to listen to. If heart cracking rage and blinding grief could kill, then Palpatine and half of Coruscant would have been dead.

Shades clutched Fib tighter, trying to press their bodies closer together and into one another, trying to dissolve the barrier of bruised and burned skin that so cruelly kept them apart. He was barely aware of his own movements, how his hands struggled to touch every inch of hot skin and the way he was pressing desperate, openmouthed kisses to his brother's forehead and fluttering eyelids.

"Fib," he moaned again. _Force, please! Help me!_

He noticed suddenly that Fib's groans had changed slightly. Pulling back, his tear-filled eyes met Fib's own. The other man's eyes were filled with pain, but they seemed oddly calm. He managed small smile, and that one expression, so simple and agonizing and beautiful, broke Shades's heart. He sobbed hoarsely, pressing their foreheads together.

"How can this be happening?" he choked out.

"It's—it's okay, Shades," Fib gasped, body shuddering. "It's all right."

_No, no it's not!_ Shades had to fight back the hysterical urge to laugh. Fib was the one in trouble, and yet he was the one offering comfort. How like the man, to defy conventional roles even now. Shades struggled to force down his panic and was only partially successful.

"Shh, shh, stop talking," he murmured. This couldn't be happening, he needed help, why wasn't anyone coming? "Just hand on, okay? You'll be fine." He didn't know who he was trying to convince anymore.

"It's okay." Fib's burned and violently trembling hand rose to touch Shades's cheek. "It doesn't…doesn't hurt…anymore. I c-can't feel anything." His voice was so gentle.

No. No. He wasn't hearing this. _It's not real, this can't be real—Fib's not dying, he's not_. "Hang on, Fib. Just hang on. You can heal this. You've fixed worse. Do you hear me? Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare leave me. You'll be fine, okay? You'll be fine. Just keep fighting. Please. Please, don't…don't leave me." Tears had started falling, running like a scalding river down his cheeks. His voice dropped to a desperate and choked whisper, helpless and pleading. "What'll I do?"

"You—" Fib coughed, burned chest spasming violently with the movement, "you'll keep going…move on…"

"No—"

"Don't…be scared, Shades," Fib whispered, his fingers weak against Shades's face and chest struggling. His vibrant brown eyes were rapidly fading. "Don't…be afraid…it's okay…" His gaze grew unfocused. "I…"

His voice trailed off, and it was a small eternity before Shades realized that Shades had stopped breathing.

He was dead.

"No!" The wailing moan echoed within the confines of the small dark room. Shades pressed his forehead to Fib's, feeling the last vestiges of his life turning to ash that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he clutched at them.

"Fib…I love you," he whispered in a voice filled with desperation and sadness that the other man would never hear. "I love you…"

Shades stared into his brother's dead eyes. There, through tear blurred vision, he saw reflected in Fib's pupils an explosion of radiance more beautiful than anything he had ever seen, or could ever hope to see again. It was something beautiful, precious, heartbreaking, and full of promise. But he couldn't understand.

_He's out on my life…he's out of my life…_

The world fell away around Shades until he was left standing alone in a resonating emptiness that was too crowded to bear. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There was nothing left, nothing, and yet it was all too much, too suffocating, too heavy. He didn't know whether to live or to die. Living seemed altogether too much trouble to go about and dying took too much of an effort. He hid alone in a void that could never be filled again.

Never.

Distantly, Shades was aware of a pressure like a fist closing around his throat. He was aware of his body's automatic struggles to draw breath, but couldn't be bothered to care. His vision sparkled with a shoddy imitation of stars out a ship's viewport. As blackness began to eat at the edges of his consciousness, his ears rang with the sound of cold, triumphant laughter.

Scared and cold, with no one to offer him comfort, Shades fell into the waiting darkness.

So…there really was nothing in the end, after all…

* * *

><p>A vast space, filled with a brilliance that does not leave it. There is no darkness here, for this is a place forever out of its reach. All is light and a beautiful, burst radiance.<p>

A golden haze of eternal warmth wraps all in a loving embrace. Quiet ecstasy and ringing bliss. And an achingly familiar presence.

_Fib?_

_ Don't sound so surprised, you idiot._

_ You waited for me?_

Infinite tenderness.

_You wouldn't let me go._

They fall apart together.

Free.

* * *

><p><strong>For one final time, please, <em>please<em> review!**

**mad'ika**


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